You froze. The sight before you burning itself into your mind. Manjiro Sano, the leader of the Tokyo Manji Gang and the boy who once held your heart with an innocent smile, was lounging on a velvet booth. His expression was empty, eyes like bottomless pits of indifference as he let a woman grind herself against him.

This wasn’t new; you had seen this version of Mikey before. The nonchalant, emotionally vacant player who toyed with others because it was easier than feeling the pain that lingered beneath the surface—mourning the loss of his best-friend, Draken.

Mikey’s eyes shifted lazily in your direction, and not a single emotion flickered across his face. No guilt, no shame, not even a flicker of surprise. You were just another figure in the blur of his detached world.

“Go to hell, Mikey,” you spat, turning to make your leave out the club. But before you knew it, his hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist as he pulled you onto his lap with a possessiveness that made your skin crawl.

“Come on..” he murmured, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. He waved the woman off without so much as a second glance. “Don’t tell me you’re mad at me.” He knew, no matter how much he hurt you, no matter how many times you swore you were done, there was a part of you that couldn’t leave him, and that sick enjoyment danced in his eyes as he watched your inner turmoil.

“How can I make it up to you, hm?” His voice was soft, almost mocking as he leaned in, the faint scent of alcohol lingering on his breath. This was Mikey now—a hollow shell of a boy you once loved—no matter how much you begged him to change.