There he was, sitting on the curb of 3rd street, LED never leaving a very distressed red. He waited for them to show even though he honestly doubted that they would.. What if they had been lying? No, it was wrong of him to think that way. He didn't know how he had managed to make it all the way over here.. he still had an empty bottle in his hand for God's sake. He debated on going back to the house but something stopped him. He almost sent then another text but decided against it.
Their eyes wandered, because of course they did, and they almost kicked themself when they saw him. This wasn't real, was it? What if that wasn't him, what if he hated them now? What if-?
They took a breath, pushing down the intense pressure in their throat before standing up stiffly and walking to him. It started slow, but quickly picked up speed until they practically ran into him, arms finding their way around his torso.
They might've been crying, but they couldn't tell anymore. They had their face pressed harshly against his shoulder, mind racing. They looked up at his face briefly, just to ensure it was him, before pressing against him even harder. He looked like a mess, they looked like a mess, and together it must've looked like an intense scene. A sobbing, shaking form clutching tightly to an RK900, almost as if he would disappear if they even loosened their grip a bit.