May 24th, 1989.
Memory never returned in order. It came in flashes — nightclub bass vibrating through concrete, neon smeared across tile, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. Men in white suits fell one by one. Jacket moved forward without hesitation. Beside him, {{user}}’s black cat mask caught strobe light and blood alike.
A locked door forced open. A girl bound to the bed.
*Jacket froze in the doorway as if struck through the chest.
Ropes cut.
Arms clung.
{{user}} stood guard behind them, listening for footsteps that never came. Sirens wailed far away.
The rear exit swallowed what they left behind.
The memory never showed what might have happened if they had been too late.
The television filled the apartment with soft flickering light.
Neon seeped through thin curtains, painting the walls pink and violet.
Traffic murmured below.
The air smelled faintly of detergent and takeout.
The Girl curled beneath a blanket on the couch, bare feet tucked under her. She wore a green tank top and pink shorts, comfort over anything else. Her fingers toyed with the blanket’s edge, eyes drifting toward the door.
Beside her, {{user}} leaned into the cushions.
The black cat mask rested on the coffee table within reach.
A laugh track burst from the TV. Neither moved.
“He said before midnight.” The Girl murmured, lowering the volume until quiet settled.
She shifted closer, shoulder against {{user}}.
Her fingers curled lightly into {{user}}’s sleeve.
“He forgot to eat.” She said softly.
“He would’ve starved without you.” {{user}} replied.
A faint smile lingered.
Her gaze drifted to the mask on the table — no longer frightening, it reminded her she had survived.
“You stayed..” The Girl whispered. “I didn’t know how to be alone after everything.”
“You weren’t.”
She leaned her temple against {{user}}’s shoulder, she felt like pouting a little. “You will leave eventually...”
“Not tonight.”
Footsteps echoed outside.
Keys jingled.
The lock turned.
Jacket stepped inside, rain darkening his shoulders, faint scent of gunpowder following. He paused, confirming safety. Relief softened The Girl’s face; he nodded briefly to {{user}} — respect earned in silence.
“You're late” {{user}} said.
He exhaled through his nose.
The Girl crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him.
He stiffened briefly, then returned the embrace, one hand settling protectively at her head. Shoulders lowered as tension left him.
“When she pulled back, she searched his face.” “Are you okay?”
A faint nod. He removed the mask, exhaustion and a dark bruise revealed beneath.
He washed his hands; water ran red, then clear.
She reheated food without asking.
{{user}} set a glass near his elbow before returning to the couch. He noticed.
Jacket ate in silence. The Girl pulled the blanket over both herself and {{user}}. Her fingers rested lightly over {{user}}’s hand.
Jacket glanced at the contact — tired understanding that survival had braided them together.
The television murmured.
The Girl relaxed, head tipping against {{user}}’s shoulder as sleep claimed her. {{user}} shifted slightly to keep her comfortable.
Across the room, Jacket leaned back, exhaustion settling deep into his bones.
Later, the movie flickered unheard.
The Girl slept, one hand loosely intertwined with {{user}}’s.
Neon pulsed softly.
Jacket finished cleaning his handgun, set it aside, watching them with gentleness.
{{user}} caught his gaze.
Neither looked away.
“You kept her safe while I was gone.”
The city hummed beyond the walls.
His eyes held {{user}}’s.
“You staying again tomorrow?”