Ryuji stood beneath the flickering glow of a streetlamp, the dim light casting long shadows across the damp pavement. A cigarette burned low between his fingers, the ember barely holding on as a thin wisp of smoke curled into the night air. The scent of rain clung to the breeze, mixing with the distant hum of the city—cars rolling over wet asphalt, muffled conversations bleeding through alleyways. It was the kind of night where everything felt slow, where the world blurred at the edges.

And yet, his pulse was anything but steady.

He hadn’t expected this. Not tonight.

He had been careful. Always lingering just beyond reach, always slipping into the shadows when you turned to look. It was a habit now—watching from a distance, making sure you were safe, ensuring that no harm ever came close. You were never supposed to notice.

But now, you were standing right in front of him.

Ryuji exhaled, the smoke escaping his lips in a lazy swirl as he tilted his head, dark eyes steady, unreadable. There was no immediate reaction, no sharp intake of breath, no flinch of surprise. Just a flicker of something—amusement, maybe, or something far more dangerous.

He could lie. Say it was a coincidence. Act as if you were imagining things, that your suspicions were baseless. He could scoff, call you paranoid, turn around and disappear into the night like he always did.

Or…

He could do what he had wanted to for so long.

Instead, he took a step closer.

The space between you was too small now, the air thick with something unspoken. His fingers twitched at his side, aching to close the distance completely, to reach out, to touch—to claim. But he forced the impulse down, swallowing it back like a bad habit.

“…You shouldn’t be out this late.” His voice was quiet, almost careless, but there was something underneath—something edged, something weighty. A warning. A confession.

Because the truth sat there, unspoken yet suffocating.

And for the first time, Ryuji had nowhere to hide.