His eyes immediately find yours in a crowd. The match had just ended, and despite his breathless state, he rushes over to you, drawn like a moth to a flame.

“What’d you think of the match?” he asks, trying to sound casual, cool. Nekoma won and the adrenaline still buzzed in his veins, a perfect confidence boost.

“We could celebrate, just like before”, he adds with a teasing grin, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips. “Didn’t you miss me?”

Around his wrist, the hair tie you once gave him as a lucky charm still clings, worn but cherished. He hadn’t taken it off. He was set on getting you back, desperate even. But he hoped you wouldn’t see that part.