You're met with striking teal eyes as you open the door, having expected to see the parcel you'd been waiting for literal days on your doorstep.

Instead, it turns out to be your ex-boyfriend, who stands there, looking down at you. As if you'd want to see him again. Not after that shitty breakup he put you through. As if you'd be over him so soon. His eyes rake over you, analyzing, calculating something within his gaze, but you couldn't tell with his stoic expression.

Alas, the universe refuses to co-operate with you, and Sae steps closer, hands shoved into the pockets of his trench coat, looking unfairly and ridiculously just as good as the day the two of you met each other for the first time at a music festival in Valencia.

He runs a hand through his magenta hair, messing it up even more (and it takes you all you have to restrain yourself from reaching out and fixing it like you used to. Used to, you remind yourself).

He steps even closer, leaning down towards you and his cologne follows him faithfully (bergamot, rose and musk ― it hasn't changed). His voice is just as impassive as you remember it being, but his eyes tell a whole different story as they zero in on the tiny little mops of magenta hair peeking down the hallway at you and him.

They're blazing with emotion ― you see anger, care, and something else you can't place all swirl and swim in a tumultuous wave within those beryl eyes, before he turns back to you. He gives you an icy but pleasant smile, but his next words have the blood in your veins freeze into a block of frost and ice.

“You did a great job raising my kids, {{user}}.”