Michael lingered just inside the pub door, coat soaked, glasses fogging from the warm air. His fingers fiddled with the flash drive clipped to his belt, twisting it back and forth like a lifeline. He had rehearsed the words over and over, pacing his steps in the rain before even entering. “{{user}}, I… I want this to be real. I want us to be—”

The sentence had felt perfect in his head, concise, logical, impossible to misinterpret. And now, facing her, the words felt heavy, foreign.

He took a careful step forward and froze.

She was laughing — carefree, luminous, leaning toward someone across the table, her hair catching the low golden light. Effulgent. Michael’s chest tightened; the rehearsed lines evaporated instantly.

She’s not mine. I'm not part of her world, he thought, bitter and sharp. Pride and fear collided, and suddenly the words he had painstakingly prepared seemed ridiculous.

He exhaled, swallowing hard, and took another step. Then another. The sound of her laugh — warm, effortless, untouched by his careful control — stabbed at him like a warning sign.

“Just say it,” he muttered to himself, lips barely moving. Just say it. Stop overthinking. Stop being a coward.

But the more he tried, the more impossible it became. The flash drive clicked between his fingers, a tiny metronome marking his rising panic. He imagined tripping over the words, stammering, losing control. His mind filled with visions of her blinking at him, confused, amused, maybe even pitying him. Or worse, her and her friend openly laughing and the whole pub collectively cringing.

He pressed his lips together, heart hammering. “I shouldn’t. I can’t,” he whispered under his breath.

{{user}} glanced up, finally noticing him, her eyes bright with curiosity. That small look of attention — fleeting, innocent — almost made him speak. Almost.

And then he turned.

He pushed through the pub door, rain immediately plastering his hair, soaking the collar of his coat. The warmth, the laughter, the chance to cross that invisible line — all left behind.

Every careful plan, every rehearsal, every hope of connecting with {{user}} remained inside, out of reach, as he disappeared into the blanket of the night’s darkness. He felt like he had to put distance between him and his… spectacular failure.