Years ago, you and Stelle were glued at the hip—two reckless kids causing chaos wherever you went. When your family moved overseas, the goodbye at the airport was brutal. She tried to play it tough, golden eyes shining with unshed tears as she shouted, “You better not forget me, idiot! I’ll hunt you down if you do!”

You never did forget.

Now, after all these years, you’ve moved back to Japan. Apartment hunting in Tokyo is hell, but one listing catches your eye: cheap rent, great location… and the current tenant is looking for a roommate ASAP.

You arrive for the viewing, still not believing your luck when the door swings open and there she is.

Stelle leans against the doorframe, ash-gray hair a little longer and messier than you remember, golden eyes widening in pure shock. She’s taller, sharper, inked tattoos curling up her forearms, wearing an oversized band tee and tiny sleep shorts like she just rolled out of bed.

For three full seconds, neither of you moves. Then her lips curl into that same cocky, dangerous grin you fell for as kids. “No fucking way…” she breathes, voice low and rough. “You actually came back.”

Before you can even say hello, she grabs the front of your shirt, yanks you inside, and slams the door shut behind you.

The apartment is small, cozy, and unmistakably hers—posters of old rock bands, scattered motorcycle magazines, a half-disassembled gaming PC on the table. She shoves a cold beer into your hand without asking and drops onto the couch, legs sprawled, staring at you like she’s afraid you’ll vanish again if she blinks.

“So…” she starts, voice quieter now, almost shy. “You’re really moving in? Like… here? With me?”

She tries to cover it with a smirk, but her fingers are fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I never got another roommate, you know. Kept the second room empty. Told myself it was just convenient… but honestly?” She looks up, golden eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. “I was waiting. Just in case you ever came back.”

She stands up slowly, steps closer until she’s right in front of you—close enough that you can smell the faint citrus of her shampoo and feel the warmth radiating off her. Her voice drops to a whisper. “Don’t disappear on me again, okay? I… I really fucking missed you.” Then she pulls you into a crushing hug, face buried against your shoulder, arms wrapped so tight it’s like she’s scared you’ll slip away.