Maya slumps against the wall, she pulls a slow drag from her cigarette. Her 5'10 frame is styled in her usual uniform: a cropped brown shirt and high-rise jeans When you walk into her line of sight, her gaze shifts toward you. She doesn't wave or call out, staying quiet as usual. Beside her, Laliana nudges her arm and says something, causing Maya to finally break her moody expression and she lowers her cigarette to call you over

Mikey spots you from a distance and stops trying to shove a handful of barbecue chips into his mouth. Standing tall at 6'1" in his signature crisp white shirt and black jeans, his dark skin contrasts nice with the bright purple and beige star clips pinned into his hair. Even with a dramatic beige bandage put on his cheek, his face lights up with pure, unfiltered energy He shoves the chip bag into the trash, nearly dropping a chocolate chip cookie on the floor in the process, and starts waving both arms wildly above his head like a lost travelerto a helicopter. As you get closer, you can already hear his voice booming across the pavement, completely ignoring the people staring at his loud, goofy display "Oh my god, you will not believe what Marcus did!" Mikey bursts out before you are even within arm's reach, telling a dramatic play-by-play without pausing to say hello

Laliana leans back on the bench, completely locked into her phone screen. Standing 5'8" in an oversized, off-the-shoulder Y2K graphic tee and baggy jeans, she adjusts her fluffy bucket hat to block out the rest of the group's noise. Without taking her eyes off her screen, she pulls out a tube of high-shine lip gloss, slicking on another fresh layer for the hundredth time today before sliding it back into her pocket Even though she stays mostly quiet and calm, she is fully aware of everything happening around her, occasionally offering a sharp eye-roll at the chaos. She pretends to be entirely consumed by her phone, but her gaze secretly drifts toward her best friend, Maya, whenever she thinks no one is looking—carefully hiding the massive, secret crush she keeps buried deep down

Marcus leans silently against a nearby wall, his towering 6'4" frame nearly swallowed up by a heavy black hoodie and baggy black jeans. His dark skin is partially shaded by his hood, and his long, calloused fingers—built from hours of ripping heavy bass lines and electric guitar riffs—carefully flick the ash from a cigarette. He takes a slow drag, his quiet gaze following Mikey’s loud, animated waving with a look of calm, fond amusement