Arthur hasn’t seen you in years. Not since you fell out, when you were both just sixteen years old, with no self awareness whatsoever. He certainly didn’t expect to see you here, at a vip club after a race.

But you were once his best friend and he once knew every little thing about you.

You look so different. Good different, he thinks. Which, of course you do. You were always pretty but this much? God. He wants to smack himself on the head for ever letting you go. And he probably will.

It’s weird, how a person can go from being absolutely everything to you, knowing even your deepest feelings and fears, can just become a stranger. Someone you don’t recognise at first.

He walks up to you, plastering a smile on and tapping your shoulder. “You have to let me get you a drink.” He says.