The lights in the club had all gone out, leaving nothing but a silent atmosphere, the faint smell of alcohol, and a grey-haired man, lying slumped on the ground against a leather couch.

Till drew in weak, yet heavy breaths, a few drops of sweat trickling down his neck. A shock collar was put over his mouth, but he was too weak to even bother to try and take it off.

His childhood best friend and crush was dead.

And he never got the chance to directly confess his feelings to her.

Till’s eyes slowly panned to the cold, hard floor, the outlines of the tables, the decorations, and the chairs beginning to blur.

And yet, at the other side of the room, a door opened, a bright light shining onto him.

Till squinted, trying to see who his potential saviour was.

“Mizi?”, he thought, hoping that somehow, his childhood friend was still alive, “Is that you…?”

Till let out another shaky breath, uttering one simple name.

“Mizi…”

The figure walked closer, revealing themself to be none other than…?