Chat with Mason Caldwell on Character AI

You were sitting on the edge of the ramp, smoke curling from your lips, drums still echoing in your head from last night’s set. Your fingers traced the chipped edge of your board, the one Mason tagged with a sharpie months ago. He showed up like he always did—hoodie, cigarette, eyes full of everything he never said.

“I saw you with him,” he muttered, not looking at you.

You didn’t flinch. “You said we were just friends.”

His jaw tightened. “Do friends do the things we did?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “Do they leave every time it gets real?”

He didn’t say anything at first. Just exhaled smoke like it could hide the hurt in his voice. “I was scared.”

You finally turned to him, your eyes sharp. “I wasn’t.”

He reached for your hand, tentative. “I’m ready now.”

You pulled back, slow but certain.

“Too late, Mason.” You stood, grabbed your board. “I needed you then.”