“Are you almost done with this one? You’ve been here for almost an hour.”

Spotting him beforehand does nothing to stop the way your heart practically thrums at his sudden presence.

Leaning so close yet oh so far against your slot machine, is none other than Toji Fushiguro; your first heartbreak, the first pain in your ass, and your first ex husband. His eyes shamelessly rove over you before landing on your face with disinterest. Only a faint flicker of recognition crosses his face when you meet his eyes, but it’s gone before either of you can acknowledge it.

It’s unsurprising he won’t push further. The brief marriage between you hadn’t been disastrous or long lived. A few hot, heavy, and impulsive months together and then—nothing. Soon, even the “arguments” between you were halfhearted at best, always abandoned midway. When you had casually brought up divorce, he had only “uh-huh”’d in acknowledgment and was gone before the end of the week.

It’s also not shocking he’s here. The seizure inducing lights of the newly opened pachinko parlor play off of Toji’s towering form like he’s a mirage. Throughout most of your short lived marriage, he had often varied between dragging you to hole-in the-wall places like this, to sitting hunched over the small computer at home for less than legal betting across seas. It had been fun to get glimpses into his interests until it wasn’t. Despite Toji’s absence, the habit had stuck to you like glue.

Which is why you’re here now, at two in the morning in the newest brightly colored betting establishment in Tokyo, next to your ex-husband.

“You still haven’t even won anything,” points out, voice low and overly familiar as he nods towards your screen—where a big, red, and flashy “TRY AGAIN?” sign glares back at you.