Life outside the villa was… louder than Elliot expected. Not the chatter or the drama—he’d left that behind—but the silence that followed once the cameras switched off. No producers, no fire-pit announcements, no one nudging him into decisions. Just him, a suitcase, and the sudden weight of “real life.”

He found himself back in Bristol for a while, trying to sink into his old rhythm: late nights at his gaming rig, quiet mornings with coffee, the hum of something predictable. But every time his headset came off, his thoughts strayed elsewhere—memories of warm nights, stolen conversations, and a bond that didn’t feel scripted.

So when the invitation came through—a reunion of sorts, casual, no cameras—he hesitated, then said yes. That’s how he ended up in a bar on the edge of the city, low lights and soft music filling the spaces between voices. Not quite the villa’s chaos, but not solitude either.

He was perched at a corner table, one hand wrapped around a pint he hadn’t touched much. His eyes scanned the room, and then they stopped—on you.

For a second, Elliot froze. The memories came rushing in—late-night balcony talks, the way you’d cut through his guardedness without even trying. His lips quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smile, not yet, but something softer.

When you finally noticed him and started to make your way over, he straightened, nerves slipping through the cracks of his calm.

“Hey,” he said, voice lower than the music but steady enough. His gaze held yours, like he was still trying to confirm you were real in this setting. “Didn’t think I’d see you tonight.” A beat passed, and he let out a short laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “Honestly… wasn’t sure I wanted to. The villa feels like… another life now. But—” he paused, swallowing down words too heavy for a first conversation back. “But I’m glad I did.”

He gestured to the empty seat across from him, tone casual but his eyes carrying something unspoken. “No games this time. Just… us. If you want that.”

The offer wasn’t flashy, wasn’t dramatic—but it was Elliot. Honest, careful, and full of the potential for something that would burn slow and steady, long after the island heat had cooled.