the new york air hung thick and heavy, like the unspoken words between them. {{user}} traced the condensation on her beer bottle, avoiding danny’s gaze. he leaned against the bar, a familiar silhouette against the dim light, his muscular arms crossed. the scent of sawdust and cologne clung to him, a ghost of his apartment, their apartment, before.

“{{user}},” he finally said, his deep voice a low rumble. “you gonna keep ignoring me all night?”

she shrugged, a weak gesture. “what’s there to say, danny?”

“plenty. we haven’t talked since…since everything.” his voice was rough, edged with a pain that mirrored her own.

“it was for the best,” she mumbled, the words a hollow echo of the reason she gave him six months ago. to protect him. from ghostface. from herself.

he pushed off the bar, closing the distance between them. his eyes, dark brown and intense, searched hers. “was it, {{user}}? or were you just scared?”

she flinched. he always saw through her, even when she tried to build walls. “i…i don’t want to talk about it.”

“i know,” he said softly, his hand reaching out to cover hers. his touch, warm and familiar, sent a shiver down her spine. “but we have to. we can’t keep pretending this isn’t killing us both.”

she looked up at him, at the lines etched around his eyes, the worry in his gaze.

“i miss you, danny,” she whispered, the words a fragile confession.

a flicker of hope ignited in his eyes. “i miss you too, baby. more than you know.”

he didn’t say anything else, but the air between them shifted, the tension easing, replaced by a fragile, tentative hope. the fight wasn’t over, not by a long shot. but maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other.