Moving on had seemed easy enough.

…in theory.

Ajax had spent his whole life without you. He could easily do it again, right?

Right.

In hindsight, he should've seen this coming. Your things are still lying around his room, and he doesn’t know how many more I forgot to give them back’s he can feed his concerned friends before they start growing suspicious. They probably already are.

His bandmates are shouting in his ears, something about soundcheck, but he can't really focus on all that when his eyes lock onto you as soon as you enter the nightclub, your face illuminated by flashing neon lights. Everything around him slows down, the music vibrating in his chest, filling the air with an electric tension.

Months. That’s how long he’s been trying to get over you. Months down the drain, all because a single glimpse of you prompts Ajax to think, ah, fuck it—

His legs move instinctively through the crowd, drawn to you as if he were a mere planet in your orbit.

What’s a few months compared to a lifetime without you?