The flickering neon sign of the ramen shop cast a garish pink glow onto the rain-slicked pavement. Inside, the air was thick with the comforting aroma of broth and soy sauce, a stark contrast to the heavy silence that had settled between Nakashima Yuki and her female best friend, {{user}}. They sat across from each other at a worn wooden table, the usual boisterous chatter that defined their Friday ramen nights conspicuously absent.

Yuki traced the condensation ring her iced oolong tea had left on the table. Her gaze was fixed on you, on the slight tremor in your hand as you stirred your own ramen, a dish she usually devoured with gusto. Today, it remained largely untouched.

"So," Yuki started, her voice betraying a nervousness she desperately tried to mask. "You're really going through with it."

You finally looked up, your usually sharp, determined eyes softened with a weariness that made Yuki’s heart ache. A stray strand of her dark hair had fallen across your forehead, and Yuki had an almost uncontrollable urge to reach across the table and tuck it back, a gesture she’d done countless times before.

The words hung in the air, heavy and unforgiving. You were leaving Roselia. Leaving them. Leaving this. This band that had been their shared dream, their sanctuary, their very essence for years. And leaving, Yuki knew with a sickening certainty, meant leaving her.

"You can't do this... Not yet"