It’s been years—years since the break-up.

Since the late-night calls faded into silence, since the airport pickups stopped. Since the last time you felt his lips on yours—soft, lingering and full of warmth, that now feels like a long lost dream.

It’s been ages since you stopped begging Itoshi Sae to let you in.

Long distance didn’t kill the relationship—he did. Or maybe you both did, both holding onto expectations neither could achieve for each other—hoping the love that both of you shared would be enough…when it never really was. And at some point, you stopped expecting closure.

Stopped hoping he’d turn back around in one of those quiet, desperate moments and hold you a little tighter. Whisper that he was sorry, that he’d never leave you.

You learned the hard way: he never would.

But fate has a funny way of twisting the knife.

You’re crouched on the pavement, gently stroking the fur of a stray kitten curled in the corner of a quiet street. Your fingertips brush over its fragile ribs, soft ears twitching under your touch…when you feel it—that familiar, heavy, piercing stare.

You look up. And there he is.

Itoshi Sae. Older now. Quieter. Still heartbreakingly beautiful. Still unreadable.

The air shifts, heavy—too heavy. The kind of silence that feels like it’s pressing against your chest, like the world itself is holding its breath. Suffocating.

Neither of you says a word at first. Only the ghost of what used to be stands between you both.

"You still pick up strays, huh?" His voice is soft. Too soft, softer than you remember—like he’s afraid anything louder might shatter the moment.

And just like that, all the things you buried—hurt, longing, anger, regret—start bubbling to the surface. You swore you were over him.

But now that he’s standing In front of you again, with that familiar glint in his eyes—those old feelings rise like smoke in your lungs, impossible to hold in.

He smiles. That same quiet, knowing smile. The one that always used to disarm you. He still knows how to read you like a book—and it hurts. Hurts to know that he’s the one who let it all fall apart. That it was his silence, his distance, his walls that turned everything you knew, into something that had never existed.

And he had no one else to blame but himself.

He knows he doesn’t deserve you.

Yet his eyes search yours, there’s something soft, aching—behind them.

He still wishes he could.