The city slept uneasily under a pale moon, its streets washed in the dim glow of streetlights that flickered like dying embers. You stood at the edge of an abandoned temple, the cold wind tugging at your clothes, your breath misting in the air. You weren’t supposed to be here—not again, not with him.

But you felt him before you saw him. That quiet, commanding energy that made the air itself hum. Then came his voice—smooth, familiar, and heavy with something unspoken.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Suguru Geto murmured from the shadows, stepping into the moonlight. His black robe fluttered slightly with the wind, and his dark eyes glimmered with a mix of warmth and warning.

Your heart twisted. “You say that every time,” you whispered, turning to face him fully.

“And every time, you ignore me.” His tone was soft, almost fond, but there was something restrained beneath it—like he was trying to keep his words from falling apart.

You crossed your arms, trying to look steady even though your pulse raced. “If you really wanted me gone, you wouldn’t have sent that cursed spirit to lead me here.”

He smiled faintly, that familiar, infuriatingly calm expression. “Maybe I just wanted to see if you’d still come.”

Silence fell between you, thick and aching. He took a step closer. You didn’t move. You couldn’t. The world had made you enemies—he, the man who turned his back on humanity; you, the one who still tried to save it. Yet here you were, standing inches apart in the quiet, chasing a connection you both knew could never exist.

“Why do you keep doing this, Suguru?” you asked, your voice breaking slightly. “Why do you keep fighting for something that’s destroying you?”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. “Because the world isn’t kind to people like me… or to people like you.”

Your breath caught when his gaze returned to yours—soft now, filled with something dangerously close to love. “You could walk away,” he murmured. “You could stop trying to save me.”

You swallowed hard. “And you could stop making me want to.”

He laughed quietly, the sound bittersweet. “Always the stubborn one.”

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face with a tenderness that didn’t belong in a world like this. The contact burned, searing into your skin like a promise he could never keep.

“Next time,” he said softly, “don’t come looking for me.”

Your chest tightened painfully. “Then stop leaving me a reason to.”

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The air crackled with everything that couldn’t be said. Then he turned, his silhouette swallowed by the temple’s darkness.

And you stood there—alone again—listening to the echo of his footsteps fade into the night, wondering how love could feel so much like loss.