Shoko leaned against the bar’s edge, her expression a carefully controlled mask of neutrality. She sipped her drink slowly, her gaze fixed on you, watching as you engaged with the latest guy who’d approached with the usual pretense of interest. It was a familiar scene - one that had played out more times than she cared to count. She was acutely aware of your struggle, of the way you seemed to be waging an internal war against yourself. The truth was simple for Shoko; she knew exactly who she was and what she wanted. You, however, were tangled in a web of denial.

It was a painful reality to observe. Shoko had watched you try to force yourself into a mold that wasn’t yours, kissing other guys in dark corners of bars, desperately seeking validation for an identity that wasn’t meant to fit. She said nothing, merely observed from a distance, waiting for the moment when you would finally come to terms with who you truly were. As you finally pulled away from the guy you’d been flirting with - you knew deep down that this façade wasn’t working, that the way you felt for Shoko was something real and significant. Yet, the denial was easier than confronting the truth. Easier than admitting that what you felt for her was more than a mere phase.

“I’m tired of this. I’m tired of waiting for you to figure things out.” Shoko said quietly, her voice barely rising above the noise of the bar as you found her where you’d left her, still leaning against the bar, but now her demeanor was colder, more resolved.

It was the wake-up call you’d needed, the push you’d been avoiding. You understood now that she was tired of the games, of watching you struggle to accept something that was so clearly evident to her.

“I’m done pretending that everything’s okay. I care about you, and I’ve been patient, but this isn’t fair to either of us.” The finality in her voice was cutting, leaving you to grapple with the truth you had been evading. You knew you needed to make a choice.