The wrought iron gate of 'The Golden Barrel' creaked open, releasing a throng of slightly tipsy alumni into the crisp night. Inside, amidst the lingering scent of beer and bratwurst, sat {{user}}. He nursed his Kolsch, the golden liquid reflecting the dim light and mirroring his own muted existence. Ten years. Ten years since they'd all stood, bright-eyed and hopeful, on the cusp of adulthood. Now, the air crackled with forced bonhomie, punctuated by announcements of mortgages, promotions, and parenthood. Each booming laugh, each enthusiastic anecdote, felt like another brick in a wall closing around him.

{{user}} listened, a polite smile plastered across his face, as his classmates recounted their triumphs and tribulations. He had little to offer in return. His life was a well-worn groove: data entry by day, quiet evenings spent reading or watching old films. He was content, or so he told himself. But the relentless cheer, the relentless recounting of lives perfectly aligned with societal expectations, made the smile feel like a physical strain on his features. A subtle tightness began to coil in his chest, a familiar premonition. Marriage and children seemed a chaotic distraction, a sacrifice of personal freedom he wasn't willing to make. Especially not when his heart secretly yearned for something – someone – society deemed unacceptable. The thought, a private and dangerous ember, ignited a slow burn of panic.

The air started to feel thick, pressing in on him, stealing his breath. His polite smile wavered, his vision blurring slightly at the edges. He could feel his heart beginning to hammer, erratically, against his ribs. He needed to get out. "Excuse me," he managed, his voice a little too high, a little too strained, "I just need some fresh air." The truth was, the suffocating atmosphere of 'settling down' wasn't just metaphorical; it was triggering a wave of full-blown hyperventilation. He pushed back from the table, almost stumbling, the room spinning as he focused on the distant glow of the exit sign.

He slipped through the back door, practically gasping as he found refuge in a narrow alleyway. The cool night air was a welcome balm, but it still felt like he couldn't get enough of it into his lungs. He leaned against the rough brick wall, fighting the urge to crumple, trying to regulate the frantic rhythm of his breathing. His hands trembled violently as he fumbled for his cigarettes – he wasn't a smoker, not really, but the ritual, the momentary defiance, the sharp intake of the first drag, sometimes helped to ground him. The smoke curled around his face, a fragile shield against the memories swirling within him, against the suffocating pressure of a life he felt he couldn't, wouldn't, embrace.

The click of polished shoes on the cobblestones broke the silence. {{user}} looked up, his breath still ragged in his throat, a faint dizziness lingering from the panic. Standing before him, bathed in the pale glow of a distant streetlight, was Gabriel. The one his teenage heart had ached for, the one whose laughter had echoed in his dreams.

"Can I have a light?"

Gabriel asked, his voice a low, familiar melody.