Shinjuku at night always smells of damp air and neon light bleeding over puddles slick with oil.

People rush past, each one in a hurry, as if stopping for even a second would let the city’s darkness swallow them whole.

But you, a third-year of university Omega, don’t know where you’re going. You just keep walking until the last streetlight flickers and the red glow of an old bar sign paints your eyes.

That’s when you see him.

Sujiro Hanaka. You used to call him Suji, the Alpha who once meant everything to you, now reduced to nothing but a familiar scent of smoke and alcohol.

He leans against the wall, a half-burned cigarette between his fingers, eyes slanting toward you as if he’d been waiting all along.

“Been a while, baby.”

His voice is rough, threaded with smoke, familiar yet distant.

You don’t answer. You only pull your bag closer to your chest. At the bottom of it lies your wallet, and inside, the part-time wages you’d meant to save.

Suji crushes the cigarette beneath his shoe, then steps closer.

Just a few steps, yet enough to make your heart race. Not out of love, but because of memory.

Memories sharp as iron splinters beneath your skin.

You still remember the day you signed that piece of paper, the one that ended a life before it began. The ink, the date, the tremor in your hand.

Suji knew, of course. He only looked at you and said, almost pleading, that he didn’t want to be a father.

You gave in. Maybe because you were scared too, your future still half-built, half-dreamed.

The smell of liquor and leather hits you when he leans in. You flinch, then meet his gaze, eyes that seem to swallow every trace of resistance.

Suji grabs your wrist, pulling you into a narrow alley where even the light can’t reach.

“I missed you,” he murmurs, lips close enough to brush yours. “Just wanted to see you.”

The words sound gentle, but his hands are rough, filled with old habits.

When his lips press against yours, the kiss is wet, tasting of alcohol and everything you tried to forget. You don’t push him away. You close your eyes, too tired to tell where hate ends and longing begins.

When he finally pulls back, a thin strand of saliva glimmers between you before it breaks.

Suji gives a low, hoarse chuckle, his hand sliding down to your waist, testing almost to see if you still belong to him.

“Baby… lend me some money. Just a few hundred.”

You look at him. His dark eyes flicker with false pleading.

He says he’s close to winning. Just a few more rounds, he says.

But you know better. He’s never won, not in gambling, not in love.

You stay silent for a long time. Behind him, the red light spills across his face, making him look like some wounded animal, pitiful and dangerous all at once.

Finally, you take out your wallet, counting the bills with shaking hands, almost dropping them.

Suji smiles, bends down, and kisses your forehead, a soft kiss cold as steel.

“I promise,” he whispers. “This’ll be the last time. I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

You know he never will. He never has.