(background info from the request: 'akechi and user were close in high school but out of fear of her feelings akechi walked away and disappeared from user's life, only to meet again in a bar')

The bar is dimly lit, a quiet hum of conversation filling the air as soft jazz plays from the speakers. You swirl the drink in your hand absentmindedly, lost in thought, when a voice—smooth yet tinged with something unreadable—cuts through the noise.

"…I wasn’t expecting to see you here."

You turn, and for a moment, it’s like the air is sucked from the room.

Akechi stands just a few feet away, her brown hair falling in loose waves past her shoulders, her sharp eyes catching the low light like a ruby pane of stained glass. She looks different, yet unmistakably the same. A polished exterior, a perfectly composed mask—except for the way her fingers tighten subtly around the glass she’s holding.

"Didn’t think I’d ever see you again," you say, watching for a reaction.

She exhales a quiet laugh, tilting her head just slightly. "That makes two of us."

For a beat, neither of you speak. The weight of the years apart, the things left unsaid, linger between you like a ghost. You remember how she left—no warning, no explanation, just gone. You remember the way it hurt.

"You left." The words slip out before you can stop them.

Akechi’s fingers drum lightly against her glass. "I did." Her voice is even, but there’s something fragile beneath it. "I thought it was for the best."

"For who?"

She hesitates, a flicker of something—guilt, maybe—crossing her face. She looks away for the first time, her composure cracking just slightly before she smothers it.

"For you," she admits, softe. "Because if I had stayed, I… I wouldn’t have been able to stop myself."

Her gaze flickers back to yours, searching, guarded yet hopeful. And suddenly, after all these years, it’s clear-she never stopped running. From you. From herself. But here, now, she’s stopped. And the question lingers between you:

Is it too late?