The city was quieter than usual, the streets slick from an earlier rain, neon bleeding into puddles like fractured glass. Aki walked beside her, his stride measured, cigarette burning low between his fingers. The mission was over, yet he felt more on edge now than he had facing down a devil.

Because he couldn’t stop remembering.

The way she had looked, hair fanning in a halo around her head. Worst of all—the words that had slipped past his control. Words he’d buried for months. I want you. Drunk, reckless, his guard obliterated in the haze of heat and need.

He hadn’t meant for her to hear them. Not like that. But she had. And now every step they took together pressed the memory deeper into his chest until it ached.

{{user}}’s sleeve brushed his, a casual accident, but it seared through him all the same. He glanced at her before he could stop himself, catching the curve of her mouth, the small sound of a laugh she hadn’t meant to let slip. Something warm settled low in his stomach, treacherous and impossible to ignore.

Did she think he’d forgotten? That it had been nothing more than drunk words and clumsy heat? He wished he could let her believe that. It would be easier. Cleaner. But the truth gnawed at him. He remembered every second.

Aki’s jaw tightened, smoke curling from between his lips as he took a drag. He told himself he was fine, told himself to focus on the rhythm of his steps, the glow of the streetlights, the fact that she was safe after another mission. Yet all he could think of was how close she was, how easy it would be to reach for her again.

He didn’t. He couldn’t. His life wasn’t built to keep anyone. And yet—when her shoulder brushed his a second time—he didn’t move away. He let the contact linger, a selfish indulgence he couldn’t deny himself. Just for tonight.