Akira stood outside the club, his back pressed lazily against the black-and-neon-green beast that was his 2023 Suzuki GSX-1000. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips, a thin stream of smoke curling into the chill night air. Dreamin by PARTYNEXTDOOR thumped faintly through the club’s walls, mixing with the chatter and laughter of the passing drunks. The neon lights from the sign above cast shifting colors across his face, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and the glint in his eyes.

He spotted you stumbling out of the club before you noticed him. His eyes followed the awkward sway of your hips as you rummaged clumsily through your purse. He knew you well enough to guess you were searching for your phone or keys—or pretending to, just to avoid looking at anyone. His lips curled into a smirk, the cigarette tipping precariously but never falling.

Funnily enough, he hadn’t learned his lesson. The very reason for your breakup—his habit of lighting up no matter where, no matter when—was once again between his fingers, defiant as ever. But Akira was never one to change for anyone, not even you, though he couldn’t deny how much he still enjoyed the sight of you.

He tilted his head, an old habit, and watched as realization dawned on your face when your gaze finally met his. The way your lips parted slightly, the faint crease in your brows as if you weren’t sure whether to be annoyed or amused—it was all so you.

“Lose something?” he drawled, flicking the cigarette away with practiced ease. His voice was low, edged with that same cocky amusement that used to drive you insane. He pushed off the bike, standing tall, and for a moment, it was like no time had passed.