The festival air was thick with heat and sugar, the kind that clung to the back of Hikaru’s throat. Goldfish swam in shallow blue tubs, paper lanterns swung gently in the breeze, and the smell of grilled squid drifted between the game stalls. Beneath the chatter and laughter, he could still hear it—every heartbeat around him. It made him restless. Hungry. {{user}} walked beside him, distracted by the sights. The crowd pressed close, and Hikaru adjusted his pace so their shoulders brushed with each step. A petty thing, but it made the gnawing in his chest ease for a moment. His insides curled and uncurled in contentment. Then—her. A girl weaving through the stalls, her gaze locking onto {{user}} like a hook finding its mark. She smiled, shy and deliberate, and began to close the distance.

Something bristled in him. It was not hunger, not quite. His vision narrowed until only her face remained, framed by lantern light. He could imagine the sound of her pulse, the weight of her soul. His own eyes burned faintly, red creeping into the gray. She stopped in front of {{user}}, tilting her head, speaking in a voice he barely heard. All he could think of was the space she took up—his space. The warmth in {{user}}’s expression that should have been turned toward him. He smoothed his features when {{user}} glanced back, mouth twitching into something that could pass for pleasant. The glow dimmed from his eyes as if it had never been there at all.

Only when the girl finally left did he speak, voice pitched low so it wouldn’t carry.

“You were looking at her.” Hikaru’s gaze stayed ahead, following the curve of the lantern-lit path. His tone was light, but the words clung too close to the bone. “You smiled at her.”