Could it be

7 - Fleeting Encounters in the Dark

Max

At the end of the week, Max met up with his friend David in the park. The atmosphere crackled with a unique energy, the air cool and crisp as they navigated the moonlit paths, the trees casting gentle shadows.

Despite Max's inherent discomfort with social gatherings, he understood the importance of such events. Over the past year, he had grown accustomed to these occasions, developing coping mechanisms to navigate through them.

Two years have passed, and it feels like nothing had changed. It all feels like such an intrusion, as if everyone who knows me, now possesses a free pass to delve into my inner thoughts.

I hate it.

Every touch, every brush against my skin sends an electric jolt through me, triggering an instinctive fear. It's more than just the physical contact; it's an invasion, an unwelcome intrusion into my personal space.

I can't believe I still haven't mastered the skill to overcome it. It's so overpowering, it comes from the very core of my being.

And it's not just the tactile aspect that frustrates me; it's the flood of memories, flashes, and emotions that come running back with each touch.

How stupid... And honestly, how weak?

According to Dr. Lewis, it's all connected to my lack of trust and the inability to accept the irreversible change in who I once was.

Who I once was... Who I still am, damn it!

But maybe, just maybe, there's a grain of truth in her diagnosis. It sounds logical; I know she's right.

Yet, I don't think I'm wrong. I can regain control, get back to who I was, back on track with work. I can get it all back. 'She' doesn't get to take another single thing from me, except those two hellish weeks two years ago.

Present but reserved, Max maintained a delicate balance, allowing social interactions without letting anyone too close. Although his demeanor seemed fine with engagements, he strategically held a distance, preserving his comfort zone. He never allowed himself to be so near someone that an unexpected touch could disrupt his composed exterior.

Max and David's friendship, rooted in childhood, created a bond like that of brothers. Despite being labeled as complete opposites, with Max's reserved nature contrasting David's easygoing demeanor, their compatibility was undeniable.

As they strolled through the moonlit park, David, clad in a logo-emblazoned t-shirt, radiated energy and enthusiasm.

"Hey, Max, thanks for joining me tonight. It's incredible they organize this midnight run. Our marketing team nailed it with the logos; they're practically everywhere," David remarked, casting a quick glance at Max.

Max, not really impressed, raised an intrigued eyebrow.

Continuing their leisurely stroll, a subtle change washed over David's demeanor. Lost in thought, he playfully nudged Max.

A sigh, tinged with nostalgia and surprise, escaped David's lips. "You won't believe this, Max. Emma got married last week." Max halted in his tracks, feigning shock. "Emma? Your ex? Dodged a bullet there, my friend."

David grinned, shaking his head. "Yeah, tell me about it." He could always count on Max to not dig any deeper. "Anyway, what's up with you, Max?"

"Same old, same old. Nothing noteworthy." Max shrugged.

David arched an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Come on, Max. Humor me, tell me something to distract me."

Max's charismatic nature effortlessly took command of the conversation. He strategically shared a tale, skillfully revealing just enough to pique interest without delving into profound details, setting the stage for David to swiftly take the reins again.