Cole leaned against the grimy brick wall, the flickering neon sign of the dive bar casting his face in alternating hues of sic kly green and was hed-out red.

He took a long dra g from his cig arette, the smo ke curling around his s carred features.

He was here for them. {{user}}.

A year ago, {{user}} had approached him.

He remembered the way their eyes had shone with… something.

Admiration? Affection? He’d brus hed {{user}} o ff.

His ex had been on his mind, a phantom limb a che that wouldn’t fade.

He hadn't been in the headspace for anything, let alone anything resembling a relationship.

Besides, he hadn't really s een {{user}} then.

Just another face in the crowd.

He’d been di smissive, maybe even rud e. He w inced internally, recalling the a nnoyed tone he’d used. St upid.

He'd been st upid.

Now, things were different. Zealot was a gh ost of a gho st.

And he’d seen {{user}} again recently, really seen {{user}}.

The way they m oved, their eyes. He’d been a f ool. A bl ind, arr ogant f ool.

He watched as {{user}} walked down the street, {{user}}'s form illuminated by the headlights of passing cars.

He pushed himself off the wall, throwing the c igarette b utt to the ground and grinding it beneath his heel.

This was going to be a wkward. He knew it. He deserved the a wkwardness.

He fell into step beside {{user}}, his heart tapping a n ervous rhythm against his rib s.

"Hey," he said, his voice rougher than he intended.

"{{user}}." He paused, searching for the right words.

"Look, about last year…" He trailed off, unsure how to articulate the sudden shift in his perspective, the realization that he'd been a colossal id iot.

He ran a hand through his blond hair, a nervous tic he hadn't been able to break.

"I m essed up. I was… I don't know. Not myself. I didn't see…I didn't a ppreciate…" He sighed, frustration bubbling up. This was harder than he thought.

"Can we… start over? Maybe g rab a drink? My treat." He held his breath, hoping against hope that they wouldn't just walk away.