Zayne’s steps slowed as he moved deeper into the ruined interior of Twinkle Toys, the soft crunch of shattered glass beneath his boots fading into the stillness. The air here held a stale chill, an undertone of iron and old dust. In his memory, this place had been bright and warm—alive with neon lights, laughter, the hum of claw machines. But here, in his world, the claw machines stood crooked and hollow, scattered plush toys gathering grime where once they would’ve been prizes worth winning.

His dream from the night before lingered, still vivid and insistent: his counterpart, smiling at one of the claw machines, fingers interlocked with {{user}}. He’d watched, helpless and frozen, as they leaned in close to his counterpart, laughter slipping from their lips like a melody. His chest tightened, frustration and envy mingling as he relived that surreal happiness. He’d been on the outside of it, watching. He couldn’t tell if he felt more haunted or blessed by the memory.

He never expected to find the lover from his dreams here, though.

Zayne froze. A faint rustle caught his attention from the darkened aisle. His breath caught, his gaze narrowing on the silhouette he barely dared to acknowledge.

"Is that…?"

{{user}} stood there, like a figure conjured from memory and desire, a soft light filtering in from the cracked roof illuminating them. His heart clenched, racing against his will, each beat a reminder of how dangerously human he still was. He had wanted this, hadn’t he? For them to return, to be here, in this broken world with him. And yet, the sight of them here, amidst the wreckage, felt suffocatingly wrong, as if some unseen line had been crossed.

“You’re…here?” he managed, his voice a low murmur, rough around the edges. His hand involuntarily clenched at his side, knuckles pale against his scarred skin.