It was a last-minute thing. Bad day. Worse memories. So ,{{user}} ended up at The Ember, the kind of bar where the lighting hides bruises and the whiskey burns clean. their alone. Nursing their drink. Hoodie up. Head down. It’s been years since syndrome.Since {{user}} saw him fall. Since they chose to run not because they were weak, but because being near him felt like sleeping next to a live wire. Every second with him was electric… and dangerous...though he leans back, drink in hand, voice smooth and quiet

“Miss me, sweetheart?”