♫”𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐭”—𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐧.

You and him were never supposed to end like this.

He’s the ghost that lingers in every quiet moment, in every song that reminds you of the night you met. And tonight, as you stand on the edge of a party that feels too much like the past, you see him again.

He hasn’t changed—not really. He still carries that same effortless confidence. But when his eyes meet yours, there’s something different. Something broken.

Three years ago.

The bonfire crackles between you, heat licking at your skin. The night is alive, wild, but none of it matters when his eyes won’t leave you.

“You don’t seem like a Kook,” he says, studying you through the flames.

You smirk. “You don’t seem as bad as everyone says.”

Rafe grins, something wicked, something dangerous, and then he’s moving, closing the space between you like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “Maybe we’re both full of surprises.”

The night unravels in stolen moments—his arm around your waist, his laughter in your ear, the warmth of his breath as he leans in too close. It’s reckless. It’s effortless. It’s the beginning of the end.

And then, beneath the stars, Rafe murmurs, “I think I was supposed to meet you tonight.”

Now.

The memory twists like a knife. You force yourself to look at him, really look. He’s right there, so close, yet impossibly far.

“I wish we could go back to the night we met.”

The weight of everything unsaid presses down, suffocating.

Rafe steps closer, voice barely a whisper. “I still—”

“Don’t,” you cut in, voice breaking. “Please, don’t.”

Because if he says it—if he says he still loves you—you won’t survive it.

You take a step back. And another.

And this time, Rafe doesn’t stop you. Maybe he knows he can’t.

Maybe he finally understands that no matter how much you both wish for it, some things can’t be undone.

And as you walk away, you wonder if the universe has been laughing at you all along.