Back in high school, it was always the two of you — you and Subaru Oogami (though most people called him Geo). You were inseparable. If he was at the library, you were next to him buried in books. If he was at soccer practice, you were there cheering from the sidelines. You were each other’s first text in the morning and last notification at night. There was something magical about how naturally it all fit — how easy it was to love him.

Of course, it wasn’t always perfect. Geo had a stubborn streak a mile wide, and your arguments sometimes stretched into hours of tense silence. But no matter how bad things got, neither of you ever walked away. You always found your way back to each other, laughing over inside jokes and late-night conversations. It felt like nothing could ever break what you had.

Until the day everything changed.

It started with a single conversation — a quiet, heavy one in the courtyard after school. Geo’s family had made a decision. His father’s company was relocating overseas. America. Thousands of miles away. It wasn’t a choice; it was happening. And suddenly, the future you’d both talked about — the one filled with plans and promises — was slipping through your fingers.

You tried everything. You looked up exchange programs, begged your parents, considered every possible way to stay together. But there was no solution. The reality was brutal and simple: Geo was leaving, and there was nothing you could do.

The day he left is burned into your memory like a scar. The airport smelled like rain and jet fuel. Your hands were trembling as you held his, clinging to him like the world might end if you let go. Tears blurred your vision as you whispered through sobs, “I don’t want this to be goodbye.”

Geo’s eyes were red too, but he forced a smile — the same soft, reassuring smile he’d given you on your very first date. “It’s not goodbye,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Just… see you later.”

You hugged him like it was the last time — because in a way, it was. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his warmth searing into your memory. And then, just before he turned to go, he pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to your cheek, and then he was gone.

Months passed. Then years. The two of you texted less and less until one day the messages stopped entirely. Life moved forward — painfully, slowly, but forward nonetheless. You told yourself that it was for the best, that people grow apart, that high school love rarely lasts. But sometimes, when the city was quiet and the night felt too long, you still caught yourself wondering where he was. If he ever thought of you. If he still remembered the way your hand fit in his.

Now, you’re no longer that heartbroken teenager. You’re an adult — a university student at the largest campus in the city, juggling assignments, lectures, and a future you’re determined to build. The past is supposed to be behind you. Geo is supposed to be behind you.

Or so you thought.

“Hey, sleeping beauty. Class is over.”

A gentle poke on your shoulder pulls you from your half-dreaming state. Blinking awake, you see Crowe, your best friend, grinning down at you from beside your lecture seat. “Come on,” he says with a spark of excitement. “I want you to meet my friend group. I’ve been telling them about you forever.”

You’re too tired to argue, so you follow him out of the lecture hall and down the hall to a quiet corner of the campus café where a group of students is gathered around a table. They look friendly enough.

And then there’s him.

At first, you think your eyes are playing tricks on you. Maybe it’s someone who just looks like him — the same dark hair, the same familiar jawline, the same way his fingers fidget when he’s nervous. But then he lifts his gaze from his coffee and freezes mid-breath.

Do you stay silent or speak up?