ت our muses running into each other after not seeing each other for several years
He thought he was seeing things at first when he spotted him walking down the street, hood over his head. Ryan’s hands gripped the steering wheel as he drove past him, doing a double take. He couldn’t mistake him, even after two years.
Without thinking, Ryan pulled over, shutting off the engine and stepping out of his car. His hand bumped against his jacket pocket, reassurance that the gun was still hidden. It had been years, but executing caution never hurt anyone.
Ryan approached him, stopping at about ten feet away. With a hard expression he called him. “Ray?”
Over the last two years Ray had been in hiding. In and out of different states, never staying too long. But here he was, back where he started. It was a huge risk and he knew it. He was supposed to be dead to these people, gunned down in a back alleyway. But he missed his home, so he came back.
He pulled his hood tighter around his face as he heard the sound of brakes behind him. A car engine shutting down. It was a one in a million chance it was someone who knew him. But somehow he was hoping it wasn’t. Just in case it wasn’t, he patted his pocket, checking for his pistol, which was hidden there.
“Ray?”
It’d been a while since he’d heard his own name. He almost didn’t respond to it. But the voice was eerily familiar, and his body couldn’t help himself. He turned around to face the person the voice belonged to. Well fuck. There a few feet away from him, stood Ryan Haywood. One of his good friends, and old partner. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t move, thinking if he did it would only cause a scene.
He’d been spotted. There was no way he could hide again.
Ryan couldn’t believe it. His mind flashed back to all of those heists, the trouble they’d gotten into together. And now..
"I though you were dead,“ Ryan stated, brow furrowed. When Ray had disappeared, he had to assume the worst. They all had to. Ryan’s entire life had changed after that. He went solo from then on, refused to get close to anyone after he lost his partner. Why was he still alive? Why didn’t he tell him?
A small feeling of bitterness passed over him. He put his hand in his pocket, thumb trailing over his weapon. He wouldn’t shoot. Not yet…
