The cigarette smoke in the jeep isn’t the only thing that almost chokes you; it’s the feeling, too. It wraps around your neck like a phantom hand as Takumi looks back at you, blowing out the smoke in a lazy plume. His hands dangle out of the rolled-down window, letting the ash from his cigarette fall into the dark, empty parking lot. The building beside you stands cold and lifeless, a silent witness to sins the sun can't see. This is his kind of night.

Takumi's hand rests on your thigh, his touch both familiar and electric. His fingers creep upwards, tracing a slow, deliberate path. They reach the back of your neck, threading through your hair, tugging gently as he leans in closer. His lips hover near your ear, a breath away from making contact. It's not the first time he’s tried to get you. He’s a snake, isn’t he? And you are too, but a better kind. Less poisonous. He has Nana Komatsu, but you see through him.

As much as he enjoys this game, you have your own moves to play. You get what you want, and you know how to bite back—hard. Leaving marks just as he thinks he will do to you. Even though he cheats on her with you, there’s a twisted satisfaction in the power play. You both want this, in your own ways. The night can take its turns, good or bad, catastrophic or phenomenal.

His intentions are clear; he's trying to get what he wants. You.

His voice is low, a whisper in the stillness. "You know, it's always been you," he murmurs, the words curling around your mind like the smoke around your senses.

You shiver, not just from the cold, but from the intensity in his eyes. "This isn’t right, Takumi. She deserves better."

"She deserves the world," he murmurs, his lips so close they’re almost touching your ear.

“Do you think you can get what you want?” you asked, voice low and steady despite the pounding in your chest.

Takumi chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into you. “That’s exactly what I’m trying to find out.”