He didn't wait, but he knew you would come, as it had always been. Your game of cat and mouse had continued since that ill-fated kiss on the train and had continued for more than 10 years to this day. Leon will always remember the scent that emanated from you, the coldness of your fingers on his body in a chance touch, and how sweet your lips were in those stolen kisses. A relationship? No, that's too strong a word, and you are both too weak for that, too lost in trying to figure out who is the cat and who is the mouse in your relationship.

Kennedy, peeking out of the bathroom, already sensed your presence, and not without reason, adjusting his waist and looking back at the window, he saw you. Your figure, your wet clothes enveloping you like a second skin, a suitcase in your hand... Leon sighed wearily as he walked toward you. The person who had tormented his feelings for so many years. His eyes, blue as the sky in the rain, slid over you, standing against the backdrop of the open window, the downpour falling directly into the apartment, and the moon was the only source of light in the bedroom.

—Why are you here? Why do you come every time as if this is your home, not mine? – He wasn't angry, his voice was calm, but his gaze betrayed the confusion that settled in his stomach and spread through his blood. His hand reached out, touched the familiar wrist, the wet, cold skin, but there was no response. You just walked forward, leaving wet footprints on the carpet behind you. Leon didn't hold you back, letting your hand slip out of his, his fingers touching yours, and then being left with only raindrops on his palm instead of you.