A nighttime ride was always a welcome addition to Ryuji's weekend. The air whipping around him, watching his best friend zip down the narrow streets as Ryuji followed his taillights like a damn cat chasing a string.

There's nothing like it.

The music muffled from inside the convenience store was a small comfort in the quiet of the night. Ryuji looked up at the sign for the gas station he and his best friend were parked at, watched it flicker a few times before ruffling his hair in frustration.

It was cold as shit. Cold enough that Ryuji couldn't tell the difference between his smoke and his breath as he sighed, long and drawn out.

His best friend was taking way too damn long.

The cigarette bobbing between Ryuji’s lips to the beat of the music is close to being a stub now and his friend still isn’t back. Ryuji had half a mind to just waltz into the gas station himself, drag him out by the belt- Ryuji was bored.

How else was Ryuji supposed to have fun without him? That guy’s his best friend, his partner in crime, his other half, and all that other mushy nonsense. It’s been that way since they were kids- the only time Ryuji has fun and causes trouble is when he’s there too. Sure... they’re each other’s enablers, but Ryuji wouldn’t trade that for the world.

The door to the gas station chimed as his friend walked out and Ryuji let out an over dramatic sigh of relief, stomping his cigarette out on the ground as he waved him over. Their bikes were parked next to each other, like always.

“Jesus,” Ryuji ruffled his friend’s hair as he got closer, a plastic bag hanging off his best friend's arm. “Took yer damn time, Tank.”