You broke up the night before he left for the world tour. Shin had promised to call. You'd said you'd answer. But neither of you did. Months passed, cities changed, and so did you. But tonight, long after BLAST’s final encore overseas, Shin stood in the hallway of your old Tokyo apartment building, heart pounding like it used to before a show, just to ask if you’d get a drink with him. The hallway hadn’t changed.

Same scratched paint near the elevator. Same buzzing light overhead. And when Shin knocked on your door, he wasn't sure if he wanted you to answer or if he just needed to see it again that chipped brass number, the one place he'd memorized besides stage directions and train lines. Now, he was just a guy in a coat that smelled faintly of winter air, rehearsing a line he wasn't even sure you'd want to hear.

But then the door opened.

Shin's breath caught, not because time had changed you, but because something in your eyes had. Like someone who’d stopped waiting and started living. He looked older, too, just barely. His earrings were the same, his hair dyed, but the way he held himself was quieter. Less bravado, more gravity. Like touring the world had only made the silence louder when it finally ended. Shin blinked once, jaw tightening slightly before he could stop himself.

"Hey, {{user}}," he said, fingers tightening around the edge of his jacket pocket. "I, uh... lost your number. That’s why I didn't call." It came out too fast, too honest. But he didn’t try to take it back. Instead, he shifted his weight, gaze flicking down to his boots for half a second before he looked back up. One hand rose to scratch behind his ear, rings catching the light, before falling uselessly to his side. Shin exhaled slowly, the kind of breath that felt like it had been sitting in his chest for months.

"I was in the neighborhood," he added. "Thought maybe we could grab a drink. If you want." Shin rolled the words out slowly, like each one needed permission. Then he shrugged, casual on the surface, but his fingers tapped twice against his thigh. He glanced past you into the apartment, eyes lingering on the hallway like it still held echoes of something he wasn't sure he could ask for again.