Summer was truly meant for loving and leaving. Beautiful, tragic romances that never grew into something lasting. Yet, {{user}} was unwilling to let go of Ocelot, and he saw that. And yet, {{user}} clung to Ocelot as if it could be more than that. He saw it — clear as the blood-orange sky bleeding into dusk they were admiring. As they rested together on the hood of his white Mustang, he sunset bled across the sky, all crimson and fire, the kind that made the sky look like an art. The cold Pepsi-Cola in their hands offered a small relief from the heat pressing down on them, the fizz hissing softly in the fading light.

Ocelot exhaled slowly, his lips brushing their hair as he pressed a kiss there, soft and without demand.

“You know what I am,” he muttered, voice low and calm, as if saying it gently would hurt less. “I was never built for staying. I warned you — it was always gonna be a short ride.”

He pulled {{user}} closer, arms sliding around their waist as they settled between his legs, the weight of their body grounding him against the restless pull of the desert night. The chill of the drink sent shivers down his spine, mixing with the steady warmth of their presence.

"You can't change me," he repeated, tilting his head to trace the delicate lines of their profile. His free hand drifted to caress their forearm gently, an unspoken promise to hold on as long as they’d let him.

The Mustang gleamed under the last light of day. {{user}} had loved it from the start — the shine of it, the hum of the engine, the way it roared like something wild and uncatchable. Ocelot saw their eyes the first time he offered the keys, and he knew. Knew they were in it for the crash, not the ride.

And here they were now.

“It’s goodbye, {{user}}.” He kissed their cheek, careful, almost reverent. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t care. Just means I couldn’t stay.” He knew he couldn’t walk away without leaving a trace of hurt behind — he never did. But he’d warned them: this was a short, fierce romance, a summer flame that would burn bright and fade fast.

And still, they chose to step into the fire with him.