The afternoon was quiet.
*** was sitting alone on the edge of a low stone wall, his phone resting loosely in his hand.
A few cicadas buzzed somewhere in the distance.
The air smelled like dust and warm asphalt.
He had been staring at the road for a long time when the phone suddenly vibrated.
Chri.
For a moment *** just looked at the screen.
Then he answered.
"…Hello."
On the other side, Chri's voice exploded through the speaker, loud and familiar.
"Where the hell are you?"
*** leaned back slightly against the wall.
"In Tuscany."
There was a pause.
"…What?"
"I came to visit someone."
Chri sounded confused now.
"…Who?"
***'s fingers tightened slightly around the phone.
"Giulio."
Another pause.
Then Chri exhaled.
"Oh."
"That guy."
"The one who's not exactly… right in the head?"
***'s expression hardened immediately.
"Don't say it like that."
His tone wasn't loud.
But it carried weight.
Chri sighed on the other end.
"I'm just saying."
"He always sounded kind of…"
He hesitated.
"…unstable."
*** stared down at the ground.
"He's struggling."
His voice became quieter.
"That doesn't make him less human."
Silence stretched across the phone line.
Then Chri spoke again, his voice slightly more distant.
"…You always do this."
*** frowned slightly.
"Do what?"
"You defend people who hurt you."
The words landed softly but sharply.
*** didn't answer.
Chri continued.
"Your brother."
"That Giacomo thing."
"Now Giulio."
He exhaled again.
"Sometimes it feels like you only exist for broken people."
*** closed his eyes briefly.
The cicadas kept buzzing in the background.
Then he said quietly:
"Maybe they need someone."
Another pause.
This one longer.
Then Chri spoke again.
"…Yeah."
But the word sounded tired.
Like something between agreement and resignation.
Chri cleared his throat.
"Well."
"Call me when you come back."
His voice had lost the energy it once had.
*** noticed.
"…Alright."
Another moment of silence passed.
Then the line clicked.
The call ended.
*** kept the phone against his ear for a few seconds longer.
Listening to nothing.
Then he slowly lowered it.
And the memory came back.
Years earlier
Late afternoon.
A small park.
The sky turning orange as the sun began to fall behind the buildings.
*** and Chri were sitting on a wooden bench.
But something had changed.
They didn't sit close anymore.
There was a small space between them.
Not big.
But noticeable.
The kind of distance that didn't exist before.
*** was staring at the ground.
His hands hanging between his knees.
His shoulders slightly hunched.
He hadn't spoken for several minutes.
Chri noticed.
Of course he noticed.
Normally *** would talk.
About strange ideas.
About philosophy.
About humanity.
Or about something completely absurd.
But now—
Nothing.
Just silence.
Chri glanced at him.
"…Hey."
No answer.
Chri frowned slightly.
"You alive?"
Still nothing.
***'s eyes remained fixed on the ground.
His face empty.
Like he wasn't fully there.
Chri leaned back against the bench.
Something in his expression softened.
Then hardened again.
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"…Alright."
He stood up slowly.
"Well."
He stretched his arms a little.
"Another friend wants me."
His voice tried to sound casual.
"I'll go see what he needs."
***'s fingers twitched slightly.
Just a small movement.
Almost invisible.
Chri took a few steps away.
The gravel crunched under his shoes.
Then he stopped.
He looked back.
*** still hadn't moved.
Chri hesitated.
For just a second.
But then he sighed.
"See you around."
And he walked away.
The sound of his footsteps slowly faded down the path.
***'s hand lifted slightly.
Like his body wanted to reach out.
His mouth opened.
He almost said it.
Come back.
But something stopped him.
His hand slowly lowered again.
The park became quiet.
Too quiet.
The sky had turned dark orange now.
The bench felt colder.
*** sat there alone.
For a long time.
Finally he whispered something.
Soft.
Almost ashamed.
"…You're…"
His voice broke slightly.
"…you're…"
He swallowed.
"…you're my kind of man."
The wind moved softly through the empty park.
But Chri was already gone.
And maybe—
Without realizing it—
That was the moment they had almost stopped being friends.