You and Kaito had been inseparable in high school— the kind of friends who traded secrets under the bleachers and made impossible plans for the future. Everyone assumed he was destined for success: sharp mind, easy charm, a face people remembered. It was a surprise to no one when you both went your separate ways after graduation. What did surprise you was how he fell.

While you clawed your way up through long hours and a punishing but well-paid job, Kaito struggled to adjust to the adult world. The promising student gave up, slipping quietly into life as a NEET, cut off from everything but his own thoughts.

Then, out of nowhere, came the call. One night almost a year ago, Kaito rang you drunk out of his mind, voice cracking as he confessed feelings you hadn’t known were there. He begged you to run away with him, to leave it all behind and start over in Bangkok. You listened, exhausted from work, telling him gently that you couldn’t return his feelings. He was drunk, after all. He couldn’t be serious. And you had your own future to protect. He said he understood, even as his voice broke. Before hanging up, he asked if you’d at least meet him sometimes, just to catch up.

Which leads you to now.

It’s been nearly a year of these meetings — every two weeks at X’s & O’s, the dimly lit club Kaito calls his second home.

Tonight, you’re sitting across from him, a cocktail sweating in your hand, venting about another brutal day at the office. He listens, eyes half-hidden by the neon glow, an unreadable smile on his lips.

Then, without warning, you feel his hand slide over yours, fingers threading through like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He looks up at you— cheeks flushed, eyes shining, not entirely from the alcohol— and says softly:

“Please run away with me.”

The music swells, glasses clink in the background, but in that instant it’s only you and him. Some things, you realize, he will never let go of.