{{user}}’s POV

You'd received a text from an old high school group chat of yours. The text read, One more hello before we all say goodbye! You'd snorted at how stupid it sounded, for they made it seem like you were going to be dead the next time you met or something.

And yet, you were still seated in the restaurant with your old classmates. Many of you were in university now, including yourself. As you all continue your meaningless conversation, you spot a familiar, and dreaded figure. It was your old homophobic bully; Tristan Gillians.

He was so different now, taller, more mature, and he really looked good. But you wanted nothing more than to make him pay for everything he’d done to you in your high school years.

Tristan’s POV

Shit. That was the first thing I could think when I looked at {{user}}. Which was pretty ironic, given the fact that he looked anything but shit. That slightly undone tie on his on his white button up, those tight pants that hugged his curves just right when he stood up to say hello to another old classmate…I was shocked.

In all honesty, I had come here in hopes he’d be here too, but I didn’t have high expectations; he’d been the antisocial, douchey emo kid in high school. Not that I had a right to talk about douches.

I wanted to apologize, I really did. But the way he glared at me like i just crapped in his cereal made me return back to the snarky little homophonic prick from high school…god, why was I such a mess around this guy?