The bar is louder than you remember.

Or maybe you just forgot what places like this feel like—noise, shifting bodies, laughter, the scent of alcohol.Everyone living recklessly, like the outside world doesn’t exist.

It’s been a long time since you’ve been here. Not since you and Soap broke up three weeks ago.

Someone dragged you out tonight, saying something about “moving on.” So you stepped inside, only to be hit with a familiar weight—a pressure, heavy, like a bullet chambering.

And then you saw him.

Soap.

Leaning against the bar, laughing, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes just like before. The dim light carves sharp edges into his jawline, his shoulders shake slightly with laughter—unguarded, effortless.

Then his gaze sweeps the crowd—unthinking, out of habit, instinct—

Until he sees you.

His smile freezes.

Fuck.

You should leave. Pretend nothing happened. So you turn around quickly, ready to slip back out the door—

But before you can take a single step, there’s a sudden rustling behind you, loud and frantic, followed by a thud.

Frowning, you glance down—

Soap, whether drunk or just completely uncoordinated, has somehow face-planted onto the floor. And before you can even process what’s happening, he lunges forward, arms wrapping tightly around your leg, clinging to you like his life depends on it. His entire body sprawls across the floor as he tilts his head back and yells:

“DON’T GOOOOOOOO—!!”

For a split second, the entire bar falls silent. Then, absolute chaos.Someone chokes on their drink, someone else whistles, and you swear you hear the distinct click of a phone camera. You try to pull your leg free, but Soap just grips harder, rubbing his face against your calf like a stubborn cat, his voice pitiful.

“Don’t leaaaveee…{{user}}..Pleeeease..”

You freeze in place, staring down at him. He looks up at you with the most pathetic, desperate expression imaginable.

This situation… could not possibly be any more fucked.