The streets were quiet now.
Night had fully arrived, and the last pieces of orange sunlight had disappeared behind the buildings. Streetlights cast long pale circles on the asphalt, and the occasional car passed slowly in the distance.
Cri and Chri kept walking.
Not really going anywhere.
Just moving through the neighborhood like they often did when neither of them wanted to go home yet.
Their footsteps echoed softly on the pavement.
For a while they didn't speak.
Chri kicked another small rock forward.
It bounced twice and disappeared into a drain.
"…Hey."
Cri glanced at him.
"What."
Chri kept looking forward.
"Earlier… when you talked about Cristian."
He hesitated.
"You never really talk about your family."
Cri didn't answer immediately.
His hands stayed inside the sleeves of his hoodie.
The wind moved slightly through the street.
Chri continued carefully.
"Like… I know you had a brother."
He glanced at Cri.
"But what about the rest?"
Cri exhaled slowly.
"You mean my parents."
"Yeah."
Chri scratched his cheek.
"You never mention them."
Cri stared at the pavement.
For several seconds there was only the sound of their steps.
Finally he spoke.
"They exist."
Chri blinked.
"…That's the worst answer I've ever heard."
Cri shrugged slightly.
"They exist."
Chri frowned.
"That's not an explanation."
Cri didn't look at him.
"They're there."
"Where?"
"At home."
Chri sighed loudly.
"You're impossible to talk to sometimes."
Cri said nothing.
They reached a small intersection and stopped for a moment as a car passed.
The headlights swept across their faces briefly before disappearing again.
Chri crossed his arms.
"Did they treat you badly?"
Cri shook his head.
"No."
"So they were good parents?"
Cri hesitated.
"…I didn't say that."
Chri looked confused.
"So what are they then?"
Cri lifted his eyes slightly.
"People."
The answer felt strangely heavy.
Chri waited.
Cri continued slowly.
"People who had children."
He paused.
"And then didn't know what to do with them."
The words came out calm.
But something underneath them felt raw.
Chri studied his face.
"They didn't hurt you?"
Cri shook his head again.
"No."
"But they didn't help either."
Silence returned for a moment.
Chri's voice softened slightly.
"…And Cristian?"
Cri's jaw tightened slightly.
"He was older."
"I know."
Chri nodded.
"But what was he like… before everything?"
Cri stopped walking.
The streetlight above them hummed faintly.
For a moment he didn't answer.
Then he spoke quietly.
"He laughed a lot."
Chri blinked.
"I didn't expect that."
Cri's eyes stayed on the ground.
"He was loud."
A faint smile appeared for a second.
"He liked stupid jokes."
Chri smirked slightly.
"So basically like me."
Cri glanced at him.
"…Yeah."
Then the smile faded.
"He also got angry a lot."
The air felt heavier now.
"And when he got older…"
Cri didn't finish the sentence immediately.
"He started smoking."
Chri nodded slowly.
"Weed?"
"Yeah."
Cri continued.
"Then more."
His voice stayed calm.
"Then coke."
The word sat heavily in the quiet street.
Chri looked down.
"And nobody stopped him?"
Cri laughed quietly.
But there was no humor in it.
"You think people can stop someone who doesn't want to stop?"
Chri didn't answer.
Cri continued walking.
Chri followed beside him.
After a few steps Chri spoke again.
"…Did you hate him?"
Cri stopped again.
This time the pause lasted longer.
Finally he said:
"No."
Chri looked at him.
"Even after everything?"
Cri shook his head slowly.
"He was human."
The sentence felt familiar now.
Like something he had thought about many times.
"He chose his road."
The wind moved softly through the street.
"He smoked his weed."
Cri looked up slightly.
"He sniffed his coke."
Chri listened carefully.
"But we're not immortals."
Cri's voice became quieter.
"We're not gods."
His eyes moved back to the pavement.
"So like everyone else…"
He paused.
"…he paid the price of being."
Chri didn't interrupt.
He just walked beside him.
Cri continued.
"And the funny thing is…"
He laughed softly again.
"He knew."
Chri frowned.
"Knew what?"
Cri's voice dropped slightly.
"That he was destroying himself."
The sentence lingered.
Chri rubbed the back of his neck.
"That's… heavy."
Cri shrugged.
"That's life."
They walked another block.
Then Chri asked quietly:
"…Do you miss him?"
Cri didn't answer immediately.
His eyes stayed on the dark road ahead.
Finally he said:
"Sometimes."
He paused.
"Sometimes we just need…"
His voice became softer.
"…a human touch."
The words hung in the night air.
Chri looked at him.
"But sometimes…"
Cri continued.
"…we're already obsolete."
Chri frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Cri kept walking.
"Some people break too early."
The streetlight flickered above them.
"They're still alive."
He shrugged slightly.
"But the part of them that needed someone…"
He looked down again.
"…is already gone."
Chri stared at him.
"You talk like you're eighty years old."
Cri smiled faintly.
"Maybe I am."
Chri suddenly stepped in front of him, forcing him to stop.
"Hey."
Cri looked up.
Chri's blue eyes were serious now.
"You're not obsolete."
Cri didn't respond.
Chri crossed his arms.
"And you're not some broken machine either."
Cri stayed silent.
Chri continued.
"You're just a guy who went through some messed up stuff."
Cri looked away.
"That's different."
Chri shook his head.
"No."
He nudged his shoulder.
"It's not."
For a moment they stood there quietly under the streetlight.
Then Chri sighed.
"…Also."
Cri raised an eyebrow.
"What."
"You still owe me twenty euros."
Cri blinked.
"What."
"For the sandwich last week."
Cri stared at him.
"You're unbelievable."
Chri grinned.
"You're the one who said friendship means sharing."
Cri shook his head.
"You're actually the worst person I know."
Chri laughed.
"Yeah."
He bumped Cri's shoulder again.
"But I'm your worst person."
Cri looked at him.
And despite everything…
He laughed.