The bass rattled the walls, neon lights flashing over the crowd, but Hazard barely heard any of it. His drink hung loose in his grip, forgotten, as he stared at the figure across the room.

You.

Only, it wasn’t you. Not really. The face was the same, but everything else—too sharp, too hollow. You’d lost weight, dyed your hair black, traded soft edges for something jagged and untouchable. And the way you carried yourself—like you belonged in this place, like you belonged in his world now.

His jaw clenched as he set his drink down and pushed through the crowd. You hadn’t seen him yet, too caught up in conversation, laughing at something some asshole whispered in your ear. It made his blood burn.

“Didn’t think this was your kinda scene,” he said, voice low as he stepped into your space. Your smile faded, eyes flicking to him. No shock. No hesitation. Just… nothing.

“Things change,” you said simply, taking a slow sip of your drink. “People change.”

Hazard scoffed, eyes flicking over you again, the black-streaked eyeliner, the ripped-up clothes, the body he knew too well now thinner, sharper.

“That what this is?” he muttered. “You tryin’ to be me, or tryin’ to outrun whatever’s left of you?”