I truly hate the word "unalive." There are so many other euphemisms that fictional Italian mobsters worked so hard to provide you with and you just ignore them.
I think a lot of people are forgetting that on tumblr fandom used to be practiced very differently. now everyone fucks off to their discords or tumblr groups to discuss everything with a select few, making tags be nearly only used for posting some finished fanworks or not at all
a decade ago people didn't have tumblr groups. people didn't even have dms. if you wanted to talk to anyone about anything you had to make a post, or send an ask (which more often than not would get published and thereby become a post in the end too)
so next time you think "I have a fandom thought but I have to find a small group of hyperspecifically like-minded people to share it with in private" remember all the freaks you could be missing out on meeting by keeping the tags dead. use tags, make friends. fuck discord.
warnings : slight profanity, few mentions of “yn”, slight mentions of blood and weaponry, and mentions of alcohol and drinking
synopsis : receiving a spontaneous invitation to meet up with a someone you’ve tried to forget — what could possibly go wrong?
a/n ⦂ second part to unexpected visits, hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it. can’t thank you all enough for the support on the last one. truly, it means a lot. apologies for any mistakes. enjoy !! — n <𝟹
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Petrichor (n.) ─ The evocative scent that permeates the air when raindrops grace the parched earth, a harmonious blend of soil and moisture that stirs memories of serenity and the timeless dance of nature’s elements.
It was the first thing Five noticed as he awoke from an unusual restful sleep. The remnants of the night’s rain lingered through the large windows, casting a gentle gloom over the city. Grey clouds dominated the sky, making the outdoors appear bleak but the indoors of people’s homes feel warm and inviting. A fine mist wove through the cityscape, the silhouettes of buildings barely visible in the distance. He didn’t bother to check the alarm clock next to him on the nightstand, but he could sense it was still early.
He wouldn’t label himself strictly as a morning person, but he didn’t mind the term either. In fact, he cherished early mornings for their tranquility. While most of the world was still asleep, he reveled in the calm, enjoying the peace and solitude without any interruptions. No one could bother him.
He glanced around his room, the dark wooden dresser next to the window had a drawer slightly ajar, with some clothes peeking out. On top of it lay a scattering of neglected items : forgotten files, a book gifted from one of his siblings, and a slightly wilted plant, its leaves curling from days without water. The curtain beside it draped over the dresser, swaying gently in the breeze that wafted through the open window.
Outside, the typically bustling city seemed to pause in the early morning hush, the luminous neon sign visible from his apartment now completely shut off. The gentle patter of the last few raindrops on the windowpane formed a soothing rhythm, a contrast to the turmoil that tended to cloud his thoughts.
Today, however, felt different; a sense of calm settled over him, despite the faint throbbing in his head from the alcohol consumed just hours earlier. He longed for oblivion, to erase the events of the previous night, but such wishes were futile. It all played out in his mind with relentless clarity, all in a loop.
How could he ever forget?
Rubbing his temples, he tried to ease the dull pulses as he took a deep breath, letting the fresh, earthy scent of the outdoors fill his lungs through the slightly ajar window. He preferred to confront thoughts of her later, after starting his day. Besides, he knew he had to get up now; delaying it would only intensify the difficulty later on.
Reluctantly, he pushed aside the temptation to sleep in and sat up. His pajamas were now mostly wrinkled. He didn’t have a clear memory of changing into them, but he was glad he did. His clothes from the previous night were carelessly thrown across the floor, a silent testament to his hasty retreat to bed. The floorboards creaked softly as he swung his legs over the side, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room.
He stretched, feeling the tension ease slightly from his muscles, before slowly making his way out of bed. He left his sheets in disarray; he could deal with them later.
As he made his way to the living room, the lingering scent of whiskey hung faintly in the air, accompanied by the sight of empty glasses and stray liquor bottles scattered about. Yet, it wasn't just the cups that struck him as empty upon closer inspection.
He blinked, half-expecting to see yn there. But to his surprise, the couch was vacant. There was nothing there. If it weren't for the evidence scattered around the living space, the blanket he'd let her borrow poking out of the storage cabinet, and the vivid memories of their late-night encounters coming back to him in strange, accurate detail, he might have convinced himself it was all just a bizarre dream.
“You're kidding…” He muttered under his breath, a hint of annoyance coloring his tone. For the second time in less than twenty-four hours, she had managed to leave him in utter disbelief.
The apartment was quiet, but her absence made the silence more pronounced. Five's thoughts drifted to her as he stood there, nearly frozen, contemplating the events of the previous night. Her presence had been unexpected, and their encounter left him more unsettled than he cared to admit.
His mind replayed the night before : the surprise, the confusion, and the underlying tension when he found her, drunk and lounging on his couch. He had been fed up with his uncooperative family, the weight of the world pressing heavily on his shoulders. Yet, seeing her there had stirred something within him, an emotion he couldn't quite identify. Her presence had been so jarring that he had almost forgotten the reason that brought him to his apartment in the first place.
Now, standing in the quiet of his apartment, Five felt everything clashing. Part of him yearned to push her away, to uphold the distance that had long defined their relationship. He had been successful in keeping her relegated to a distant memory for so long that it had become second nature.
But he couldn’t do it anymore. This time, everything about her felt achingly real in his mind ─ too real.
The echo of her laughter, the bite of her sarcasm, the spark of challenge in her eyes during their banter, and the rare, vulnerable moments when she lowered her guard around him ─ all of it felt intensely vivid. Nothing seemed distant anymore; everything was painfully present.
Five sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He took a deep breath, the earthy scent of the world outside mixed with faint traces of her perfume filling his lungs. The contrast between the dreary monotony of the outside world and the cozy warmth inside his apartment was clear as day.
He was supposed to feel relieved that she had left ─ wasn't he? After all, despite last night prompting him to reassess his thoughts about her, it reminded him that she was merely a distraction. Why was he even questioning it? Of course he should be glad she left, ecstatic even.
Yet, as he tidied up the remnants of her presence in the living room, he couldn't shake the unease and confusion gnawing at him. Why wouldn't it go away? It genuinely stressed him out. He wasn't even sure what to do next. The entire situation seemed almost laughable.
The man who could unravel complex cases in hours now found himself completely thrown off. It felt out of character. He should have been satisfied. So, why wasn’t he? This all had no reason to be so complex.
It didn’t help that all his mind seemed capable of doing at the moment was replay their conversations ─ it was as if every word spoken, every glance exchanged, had imprinted itself deeply in his thoughts, refusing to fade.
In the midst of organizing the cluttered shelf, he spotted a small post-it note on the record player, the record from the previous night still on the turntable. He hesitated for a second, but picked up the note anyways, instantly recognizing the familiar handwriting as hers. With a furrowed brow, he paused, noticing something peculiar in the bottom of the note ─ a faint lipstick stain, unmistakably a kiss mark.
Thanks for the hospitality Hargreeves.
Don’t miss me too much.
xx
Unconsciously, his finger traced the messy but legible loops of her handwriting, pausing on each word before settling on the mark of her lips. The message echoed repeatedly in his mind, like a record.
With a sudden motion, he crumpled the note in silent frustration, unable to shake off the lingering irritation she had stirred. Though his demeanor remained calm, his thoughts were elsewhere.
Regardless of appreciating the small gesture and being familiar with this behavior from her, he still couldn't fathom her audacity. After quite literally saving her from a life-threatening wound, a topic he had delicately avoided pressing her on, and after listening to her vulnerable confessions just hours ago, she had simply chosen to leave without a proper goodbye. It felt wrong, and it annoyed him.
Perhaps he was blowing it out of proportion, caught up in his own thoughts. Maybe his stubbornness was getting the best of him. They didn't owe each other anything, even if her words had hinted otherwise. It was a point he had almost overlooked; they weren't friends, not in any conventional sense. He had no grounds to anticipate closure from her. Still, her abrupt disappearance left him grappling with a jumble of emotions ─ mostly stress and confusion.
He didn’t need closure, but he found himself yearning for something to satisfy and unravel the puzzle of his scattered thoughts. Not only did he now have to deal with the burden of their exchanged words, but also the weight of it all turning into just another memory.
With a scoff, he surveyed his apartment, taking in the disperse remnants of their recent encounter. Every little detail seemed to reflect her presence, the emotional whirlwind only growing more intense with each passing second.
In a moment of frustration, Five slammed his hand down on the table, the loud thud reverberating through the room. The crumpled note beneath his hand was now seemingly crushed and flattened. The force of the slam even dislodged a few items from the nearby shelf, but he barely registered their fall. He could care less.
Meanwhile…
At the same time, elsewhere in town, yn awoke with a jolt, groaning as pain radiated through her entire body. Her mind felt blank, yet an overwhelming rush of thoughts seemed ready to flood her consciousness. Unlike Five, her headache was excruciating, a result of the numerous drinks she had consumed the night before in his apartment. Faint memories of the previous night flickered in her mind, but many details remained frustratingly elusive.
Pushing aside her confusion, she took in her surroundings. She was in her bedroom. Grateful for her foresight in cleaning the previous morning, she found herself in a mostly tidy room. Her apartment, if she recalled correctly, should also be neat. Clutter and disarray always made her feel mentally foggy and drained her motivation.
The neutural colored blinds were only partially drawn, letting in the dim light of the overcast day. She appreciated the gentle illumination. On the floor, her black coat and shoes lay randomly next to her bloodstained white shirt, scattered. Glancing down, she realized she was still wearing her pants but had nothing on her upper body except for her bra. White bandages covered her stomach and waist, and she winced in pain as she remembered the injury beneath them. Red patches had soaked through the bandages.
The faint sound of music reached her ears from the radio on her dresser. The soft melody of a piano piece. Clair de Lune, she mused. It was one of her favorites. She always felt like it evoked a sense of narrative, even without words or lyrics. It filled the quietness of the room, offering a momentary feeling of calmness despite her pounding headache. She closed her eyes, savoring the serene beauty of the music.
Kalopsia (n.) ─ the delusion of things being more beautiful than they truly are.
She often found herself indulging in kalopsia, romanticizing situations to find a semblance of calm amidst everything. She knew it wasn't the healthiest coping mechanism, but sometimes it was necessary to maintain her sanity. And currently, she needed this delusion more than ever to muster the strength to even start her day. Taking a deep breath, she let the fleeting peace wash over her before slowly opening her eyes.
Her gaze fell on her desk, not far from her bed. It was cluttered with stray notepads, a black journal slightly open due to its contents, and a vibrant bouquet of flowers in a clear vase, their colors vivid and lively. Among the clutter, something caught her eye. It was her gun, carelessly placed atop the desk. Confusion crept in. She usually kept it safely concealed deep in her nightstand drawer. So, why would it even be ther–
Growing fed up, he pinned her against the nearest wall, her back hitting it with a thud. His hand gripped her jaw, forcing her to meet his eyes.
A memory flashed.
Mockingly, she taunted, “Careful, Five. You’re getting awfully close. People might start talking...” His eyes narrowed with suspicion, his tone cold. “Let them talk. Why are you here, huh? What game are you playing this time?” Her mind ignored the former comment, but my oh my, did her heart skip a beat.
Again.
Swiftly, he drew his own and aimed it at her head, cocking it. The noise of the mechanism echoed off the walls, filling in the silence. His voice dropped to a low tone. “Don't test me, yn...”
And then another.
“Go ahead, turn me in. But you and I both know they won't hesitate to kill you too.” She moved in closer, their faces mere inches apart, her gun pressing harder on his abdomen.
And finally..
“—I'm sure the Commission is the last place you want to be at, isn't it?” She smirked, her eyes flickering down to his lips for just a seco—
Oh?
Groaning loudly and cursing under her breath, she covered her face with her hands, trying to block out the throbbing pain and confusion. Her back slumped as she sank deeper into the bed. What had she been thinking? Her mind raced, a whirlwind of shame and frustration. No, this was bad. She let out a weary sigh, feeling the weight of her reckless decisions pressing down on her.
Frustratingly, she pushed the blankets aside, carefully maneuvering until she sat at the edge of her bed. A lamp on her nightstand cast a warm yellow glow around her, adding a touch of easment to the morning light filtering through the curtains.
Her gaze was faced downward, but then she lifted her head, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror directly in front of her. Her hair was a disheveled mess, strands tangled and unkempt. Smudges of last night's makeup clung stubbornly to her face, the once gracefully applied lip product now smeared and uneven. As she rubbed her eyes, everything slowly started to come back to her in fragmented pieces.
She remembered the small fight with the commission that led to her injury. The desperate jump to Five's apartment because she had nowhere else to go. Discovering his stash of booze and indulging as she waited for his arrival. Getting pinned against the wall by him. The careless banter between them before he helped her with her wound. Losing her cool and ranting to him about why she was there. The small glances between them, his careful touch. Waking up disoriented and dizzy on his couch.
She remembered searching and stumbling through his apartment for anything to write with, finding a pen and a post-it note, writing a short message for him as a way to acknowledge his efforts. Her impulsiveness taking over and kissing the corner of the note with a small lazy smile on her face, placing it on the turntable of the record player. Leaving the apartment complex and walking to the nearest bus stop. Finally arriving to her apartment. Greeting her black Norwegian cat, patting and kissing his head, before trudging further into her apartment, towards her bedroom. The faint music from her radio filling the air as she removed a few layers of clothing, nearly tripping a few times. Finally laying down in her bed with a satisfied sigh, cocooning herself in blankets before knocking out almost immediately.
“How unfortunate...” she muttered sarcastically with a scoff, rubbing her temples in a futile attempt to ease the throbbing pain.
She was done ─ completely done. Drinking while injured in an apartment that wasn’t even hers was bad enough, but what unfolded with Five afterward was the final straw. She couldn't even bring herself to face him. Really, how could she even? Sure, the tension between them had been undeniable, but this wasn’t how she imagined things would go.
It all felt like a disastrous blur. She'd let the alcohol cloud her judgment, leading to choices she would never have considered sober. Now, the consequences weighed heavily on her, almost taunting in their severity. She remembered the intensity of his eyes whenever he looked at her, the way his gaze seemed to pierce through her defenses. She recalled his touch as he focused on tending to her wound, each moment seared into her memory. She remembered everything.
She cradled her head in her hands, feeling the sting of tears welling up. Every thought seemed to intensify her headache, the pounding in her skull a cruel reminder of her actions. The mix of emotions churned inside her, each one battling for dominance. Embarrassment at her foolishness, annoyance at her lack of control, frustration with the situation, anger at herself, and an overwhelming sense of weakness.
She needed time to figure things out. One thing she knew for sure was that... she wouldn’t be seeing him anytime soon. Not that she wanted to anyway; his presence alone always seemed to bring nothing but trouble and irritation.
Every encounter with him left her feeling drained and on edge. She was certain he felt the same anyways. She could do this. With a long sigh, she got up, grabbed a towel from her closet, and headed to the bathroom. She needed a bath to clear her thoughts.
The morning light shone a bit brighter now, filtering into her room. The soft strains of music from her radio continued to play faintly in the background. Yet another sound soon resonated, a contrast to the calm melody ─ the loud slam of her bathroom door closing shut.
Abience (n.) ─ an intense and compelling urge to avoid someone or something.
Two months. That was how long it had been since Five had seen her.
No trace, no sign ─ nothing. At times, he almost convinced himself she might have died, but deep down, he knew she wasn’t that easy to get rid of. The time away from her did give him space to think, to attempt to get his thoughts in check. He had scrutinized every memory, every detail, hoping to find some clarity. But the answers to his burdens still remained elusive.
The apartment was quieter, the days seemed longer, and he had grown accustomed to the solitude. The routine helped, in a way ─ case after case, he buried himself in work, trying to distract from the persistent ache in his chest. He had gotten the break he asked for. Yet, in the still moments, when the world seemed to hold its breath, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of her absence.
It was difficult to get used to. The first time she left, it hardly bothered him. He hadn’t even noticed her absence until he heard about it through the Commission. Back then, forgetting her had been easier; their last memories were marred by bitter words and mutual disdain. Their parting had been a relief, a clean break from the havoc she brought into his life.
But this time was different. This time, she left behind more than just silence. He realized that despite the heavy burden of holding onto her memory, it was better than the alternative.
He chose nostalgia over restlessness, preferring to let her linger in his mind as a ghost of what once was rather than confront the tumultuous reality she brought. It seemed the easier path. Still, her memory still haunted him on those especially lonely days, and he despised her for it.
In spite of that, like the saying goes... just as the moon goes through phases of darkness before it shines brightly again, people must endure periods of emptiness to find fulfillment once more.
Deep down, locked away, he hoped that was the case for him.
During the months that followed, Five finally found some peace for himself in the comfort of his home. Well, "peace" might be stretching it a bit. He did have a few unannounced visits from his siblings, specifically Klaus and Ben. Their presence was nothing short of chaotic and, dare he say, thoroughly annoying. He didn’t mind Ben’s company as much as Klaus’, but somehow they always managed to arrive in tandem, almost as if they shared a psychic connection despite not being twins.
One evening, as he was savoring a moment of solitude, the door to his apartment swung open without warning. Klaus barged in, heading straight for the kitchen with his usual flamboyance. Trailing behind him was Ben, muttering something under his breath that Five couldn't quite make out.
Five was seated in the living room, comfortably sat in his lounge chair with a book. The soft, ambient light next to him cast a warm glow over the room, accentuating the rich, dark tones of the wooden furniture surrounding him. A cup of warm black coffee sat on the side table next to him, its aroma mingling pleasantly with the faint scent of old pages.
“Ah, there’s the golden elixir,” Klaus exclaimed, triumphantly holding up a half-empty bottle of orange juice he had liberated from the fridge.
Five slowly closed his book, his expression calm but his eyes simmering with barely contained irritation. “Klaus, what the hell are you doing?” he snapped, his voice cutting through the chaotic energy Klaus seemed to bring with him wherever he went.
Klaus turned, peeking out from behind the fridge door with a wide grin. “Just grabbing a snack, dear brother. You know, for sustenance.”
Ben sighed audibly, shaking his head in disapproval. “We talked about this, Klaus. You can't just invade people's homes whenever you feel like it.” His expression was a mix of exasperation and resignation, as though this wasn't the first time he'd had to remind Klaus of basic boundaries.
Klaus waved a hand dismissively, taking a long sip from the orange juice bottle. “Oh, relax, Ben. Nothing wrong with a bit of breaking and entering when it’s our brother’s place,” he said with a carefree chuckle, the bottle's condensation dripping onto the floor. Silence followed.
“Wha─”
“Hey, it’s not like you were using all this food,” Klaus retorted with a mischievous grin. “Besides, have you seen your pantry? It's like a crypt in there.” He began rummaging through the shelves after closing the fridge, his fingers trailing over cans and boxes, adding, “A little bit of life won’t hurt.”
Five rubbed his temples, trying to stave off the impending headache. “You know, Klaus, for someone who’s already dead, you have a remarkable talent for making me want to join you.” He sighed, sending Klaus a half-hearted glare, his tone laden with dry humor and a hint of annoyance.
Klaus placed a hand dramatically over his heart. “Ouch, Five. You wound me. I mean, come onnn. We’re family. Shouldn’t that mean we get to be a little annoying?” He grinned mischievously, his eyes gleaming with playful defiance.
“A little?” Five scoffed. “You redefine the word.” He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with a faint smirk.
Klaus nudged Ben playfully. “See what I mean? He loves us.” With a theatrical flair, Klaus plopped down on the couch, making himself at home as if he owned the place. Ben, more reserved, settled into an armchair nearby, both of them engaging into their own conversation.
Five sighed deeply, leaning back in his chair. Despite the chaos they brought, there was an odd comfort in their familiarity. He had grown accustomed to their spontaneous visits, their banter, and even Klaus’s penchant for causing mayhem wherever he went. It certainly wasn’t ordinary, but then again, normal was overrated. It had never been a word that applied to their lives anyways. With them, it was surprise after surprise.
Coincidentally, the next day, an unexpected surprise awaited him. It was late afternoon, the tranquility of his apartment disrupted only by the gentle patter of raindrops on the windowpane.
Five had just finished showering, the lingering humidity in the air clinging to him as he briskly dried his hair with a small towel, then made his way to the living room.
A knock shattered his thoughts. Pausing, he sighed wearily and tossed the damp cloth onto the couch, resigning himself to the probability that Klaus and Ben had dropped by unannounced again. As he approached the door, his hand hesitated on the doorknob, preparing for the sight of his eccentric brothers.
To his surprise, after cautiously swinging open the door, there was no one to greet him. Instead, a solitary blank envelope rested innocuously on the doorstep. Suspicion tingled at the edges of his thoughts, but curiosity won out as he stooped down to retrieve it.
Back inside, he settled on the edge of his couch, the envelope feeling weighty in his hands as he slit it open with careful precision. Inside, a neatly folded sheet of paper awaited him. As he unfolded it, his heart skipped a beat at the sight of her familiar handwriting. The brief message adorned the page, each word seeming to carry its own weight, concluding with a cryptic location and time for a meeting ─ the following night.
Thought I'd spare you from missing me
too much.
Hôtel de la Lune. Tomorrow, 9pm.
“For fuck’s sake…” He muttered softly under his breath, the weight of conflicting emotions swirling through his mind like a turbulent storm.
Why now? Why here? It had been months since he had laid eyes on her, yet the sudden appearance of her message sparked a tumultuous mix of curiosity and apprehension within him. Setting the note down on the coffee table, he leaned back on the couch, fingers interlaced behind his head, staring up at the ceiling as he wrestled with the implications of her unexpected summons.
The soft patter of rain against the windowpane soothed his nerves. Drops of water streaked down his face, remnants of his recent shower, adding to the ambiance of contemplation ─ glistening due to lights dimly turned on. Shadows danced across the room, cast by the flickering flames of candles he had lit earlier for a touch of warmth and solace. The scent of sandalwood and rain roamed in the air.
He was tempted to ignore her message, as he often did with impulses involving her. But perhaps this time could be different. Maybe, just maybe, this meeting could offer the closure he'd sought for so long.
Carefully, unlike the last note she’d written, he placed the note back into its envelope and set it aside on a shelf next to his collection of records. His gaze lingered on it briefly before he shook himself out of his thoughts and trudged back to his bedroom. Exhaustion weighed heavy on his shoulders, urging him to retreat to sleep for the night. Tomorrow, he decided, would be soon enough to face whatever awaited him.
The next day, Five found himself standing in front of the mirror. He wore a suit, impeccably tailored with a dark hue that contrasted sharply with the pale walls of his apartment. Each movement was deliberate as he adjusted his tie, the fabric smooth under his fingers, recalling the last time he wore it, how the evening had unfolded with unexpected twists and turns.
He hesitated, the weight of the impending meeting heavy on his mind. Thoughts raced through his head like restless ghosts, each demanding attention. Should he go? Could he trust her after all this time? The doubt ate at him, but so did a flicker of curiosity that refused to go away.
Outside, the city hummed with its usual cacophony, oblivious to the turmoil within him. Rain drizzled against the windowpane, casting a shimmering veil over the cityscape. Drops of water streaked down the glass, mirroring the uncertainty etched on his face.
Throughout the entirety of the day, Five wrestled with his answer, feeling a knot of dread in his stomach at the thought of going as each hour passed. And yet, despite his hesitation, his stubborn inquisitiveness kept nudging him forward.
He pondered over the note once more, its words lingering intensely in his thoughts. The bluntness of her message opposed sharply with the tangled ambiguity of their history together. How many times had he aimed to erase those memories, to suppress the messiness of their encounters? He had lost count long ago.
With a sigh, he pocketed the note, its edges crisp against his fingertips. The envelope lay discarded on the dresser, a silent reminder of the choice he had made. Determined yet anxious, he departed from the apartment, his footsteps echoing softly in the corridor as he ventured towards the entrance of the building.
As Five made his way out of the apartment complex, he encountered the doorman, Alfred ─ a familiar face with a kind demeanor that had become a fixture in his daily routine over the years. The middle-aged man greeted him warmly, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.
“Evening, Mr. Hargreeves," Alfred said cheerfully, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity. "Heading out somewhere fancy?”
Five managed a slight smile, though it felt somewhat forced. “You could say that, Alfred.”
Alfred raised an eyebrow playfully. “A date, perhaps? Or another one of your... adventures?”
Five chuckled at the suggestion, hands in his pockets. “Let's just say it's a bit of both..”
Alfred's laughter rumbled warmly. “Well, whatever it is, good luck. And try to stay out of trouble, will you?”
Nodding appreciatively, Five replied, a touch of genuine warmth softening his expression. “..I'll do my best. Thanks, Alfred.”
As he walked away, memories of his early days in the complex flooded back. Alfred had always been there, offering more than just a friendly greeting ─ he was a steady presence, someone Five could count on for a brief but comforting exchange. They weren't close, but there was a mutual respect and camaraderie between them.
Alfred, nearing his sixties, exuded an energy and enthusiasm that belied his age. Often spotted engrossed in sudoku puzzles or catching up on the latest news, he was married to Dianne, a woman who Five had only met briefly. They’d been happily together since their teen years, and still going strong.
From those encounters, he gathered that Dianne was a kind-hearted soul, offering him cookies once out of sheer generosity. She knew little of Five's complex life and familial turmoil; to her, he was simply a polite young man residing in the complex where her husband worked.
In passing conversations, Dianne had spoken fondly of her grandson, Bill ─ or William, as she affectionately referred to him. Five found solace in these talks, hearing about Bill's adventures and achievements, sensing a genuine warmth in her voice whenever she drew parallels between Five and her grandson.
If there were any people Five genuinely appreciated, even if only in passing, it was Alfred and Dianne.
But as much as he had a liking towards them, their presence only heightened his longing for such stability. He often wondered what it would be like to experience a long-term relationship, to know the joys of domestic bliss, and to build a family of his own.
In difference to his restless life, their world seemed an oasis of warmth and normalcy, leaving him acutely aware of the cruel disparity between their lives and his own. Oh, how cruel the world was these days, huh?
Forelsket (n.) ─ the euphoric rush and blissful haze that envelops you when you first tumble into love's embrace.
As Five drove towards the hotel, his mind was preoccupied. The route, once familiar only from passing glances, now stretched out before him, each mile seeming longer than usual. Rain continued its rhythmic dance on the car roof, the sound fluctuating from a gentle patter to a steady drumming, matching the ebb and flow of his thoughts.
At every stop light, his fingers tapped nervously on the steering wheel, his gaze fixed ahead as he wrestled over what he was doing. Pulling into a parking spot across the street from the imposing building, he found himself staring at it almost in a daze. He had arrived a few minutes early, the grandeur of the hotel's exterior leaving him both intrigued and uneasy. The building almost seemed to loom over him.
What was he even doing? Surely, this could all end badly. Nothing about this situation gave him a sense of reassurance. He had no clue why she had summoned him. In fact, he could just leave. He was early anyway, so she wouldn’t even notice his absence. She’d have to wait long enough to realize he wasn’t coming. But after dressing up and driving this far, what was the point of turning back now?
No, he could do this. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that he’d faced far worse before. This was nothing.
The walk to the entrance wasn’t long. Rain continued to fall, but once he stepped through the revolving doors, it was as if the outside world ceased to exist. He stood there, momentarily entranced. The hotel exuded an air of Parisian and casino glamour mixed with old-fashioned elegance. High ceilings loomed above, adorned with intricate moldings and chandeliers that cast a warm, inviting glow. Polished marble floors reflected the soft lighting, creating an almost ethereal atmosphere.
As Five took in the surroundings, he noticed the walls of the lobby, covered in teal and copper detailed wallpaper that added a touch of sophistication. Elegant arches and architecture showcased the building's grandeur, with intricate carvings that told stories of a bygone era.
The rugs, with patterns that complemented the overall design, provided a cozy contrast to the shiny marble flooring. Touches of wood and stone were seamlessly integrated throughout the arches, pillars, and ceilings, adding warmth and texture to the space.
A few guests milled about, each absorbed in their own world. A couple sat in a nearby lounge, their conversation soft but audible. “Did you see the suite? It's even more beautiful than the pictures,” the woman said, her eyes wide with excitement. Her companion nodded, a hint of a smile on his face as he stared at her, his arm interlaced with hers. “I told you this place was worth it. You only deserve the best, my dear,” he stated warmly, before placing a tender kiss on her head.
A group of businessmen passed by, their conversation filled with jargon and laughter. “Closing that deal was a stroke of genius, Mark,” one of them said, clapping his colleague on the back. “We’ll have to celebrate tonight at the bar. Drinks are on you!” Mark laughed, nodding in agreement, “Wouldn’t have it any other way, gentlemen.”
Five's gaze shifted to an elegantly dressed elderly couple seated near the grand piano. The woman, in a vintage lace dress, leaned in, whispering to her husband, “Remember our first trip to Paris? Oh, this place takes me right back..” Her husband chuckled softly, adjusting his tie as he replied, “How could I forget? You wore that red dress, and we danced all night.” They both smiled at each other, their eyes meeting with a depth of affection that spoke of decades shared together.
Walking towards the elevators were two women, wrapped in plush robes that hinted at the indulgence they had just experienced. The taller of the two, her hair still damp from a recent swim, turned to her friend with a contented sigh. “The spa here is incredible, Emily,” she remarked, her voice filled with satisfaction. “We should definitely book a session for tomorrow!”
Amid the ambient noise, a man’s voice emerged clearly as he spoke into his phone. “Yes, my love, the meeting went well. I’ll be home by the weekend.” His tone was soothing, and a small smile played on his lips as he listened to his girlfriend’s response.
This calm, mundane conversation felt worlds apart from the havoc brewing inside of him. The everyday chatter and luxurious surroundings created a rich contrast, but despite the elegance and lively atmosphere, Five's anxiety lingered, stubbornly unaffected by the scene around him.
He couldn't pinpoint the exact reason for his disquiet. Perhaps it was because the girl he hadn't seen in months was somewhere in the same building, just out of sight. The uncertainty of her exact location only heightened his unease, as if she were a phantom just beyond his reach. It seemed he wasn't the only one who noticed his state of nervousness.
From afar, an older woman, the general manager of the hotel, noticed Five wandering around and taking note of the place. She was in the middle of her usual check-ups when she saw him, his restless demeanor catching her attention. He looked out of place, his eyes darting around, scanning the lobby as if searching for something or someone.
It reminded her of the first time she encountered a girl about his age two weeks ago. The girl had shown up earlier that evening and chatted with her for a bit, mentioning that she was waiting for someone and hoping they would show up despite her actions. She felt for the girl.
And due to Five's attire and fidgety demeanor, she knew it was him the girl was talking about. She smiled at the thought before walking over, her steps slow and deliberate, wanting to approach him gently.
She stopped a few steps away from him and softly said, her voice kind and soothing, “Nervous to see someone?”
Five turned suddenly, pulled from his thoughts. He looked confused before realizing she was talking to him. “Uh, yeah, I guess you can say that...”
She smiled warmly, making him feel a bit more at ease. There was something familiar about her, almost comforting. “Let me guess. It's a young lady, isn't it? Around your age?”
Despite the comfort her presence brought, he became slightly suspicious. “Yeah, I.. how'd you know tha–”
“She's right over there,” she interrupted, pointing slightly to the right side of the hotel lobby that was more secluded. Five turned towards the direction.
There was a big open bar farther from them, in a more secluded part of the lobby. From his position, he noticed the smooth black marble tables, the velvet-cushioned lounge chairs, and the dim lights casting a warm glow over each table. The lighting gave him a sense of déjà vu, reminding him of an unexpected night only two months ago. Booths lined the walls, fitting more people, while the grand bar at the back was occupied by a few pairs and one solo guest.
It was her. He just knew.
The lady smiled as Five seemed entranced by the sight. “That's her, isn't it? She's been there for the past half an hour, told me she was waiting for someone. Kept checking the time. Despite her calm face, I could tell she was nervous...”
Five’s heart swelled with a mix of allure and hesitation. He could almost see her now, sitting there with her back toward him, her fingers drumming lightly on the table, her head occasionally turning toward the entrance.
The lady continued, staring in the same direction, “You know… she has the same name as me. She mentioned it when I first met her, after we talked a bit...”
His eyes widened slightly at the coincidence, a soft look replacing his initial tension, almost unnoticeable. “..Really?” he mumbled under his breath.
She looked down at him, in thought, before a small smile appeared again. “I'm sure you don't want to keep the lady waiting. And don't worry, I've already told the staff not to bother her or her guest. Have a drink or two with her, you're both old enough anyway.”
“But I didn't bring any—“
“I know who you are, Hargreeves,” she laughed softly. “My kids, can't stop talking about the comics or the old academy videos. You're my daughter's favorite, actually. You and Allison. Based on your appearance, I'm certain it had something to do with your powers. And I'm sure she went through something similar. So, go. Have a good night with the lady. You seem tense.”
Five felt a wave of gratitude wash over him. The warmth in the woman’s eyes, the kindness in her voice ─ it all made this moment even sweeter. “Thank you..” he said, his voice sincere, almost in a whisper. “I really appreciate it.”
“I'm sure whatever is going on between you two will turn out okay.”
She had said softly, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. With a final warm smile, she turned and walked away, returning to her work.
He watched her for a moment before turning back toward the direction of the bar. The lady would never know, but her words brought him some motivation. They gave him hope that this would all go smoothly.
With slow steps, he began making his way toward the secluded bar. As soon as he stepped in, it felt like the atmosphere changed. He hadn’t heard it before, but now the faint sounds of smooth and slow jazz played in the background, perfectly matching his surroundings.
But that didn’t hold his attention for long. As he moved further in, he spotted the woman sitting alone on a leather bar stool. If his assumptions weren’t already confirmed, they certainly were now.
The same black coat she once left in his apartment now lay neatly on the bar stool to her left. A few water droplets from the rain outside glistened on the floor beneath it, reflecting the dim lights as they gently hit the ground.
She wore a long, elegant gown with a small open back that stopped just above her waist. The fabric flowed gracefully down to her ankles, swaying with each small movement. Paired with black heels, the outfit accentuated her poise. Her legs were crossed over each other, adding a touch of casual elegancy to her appearance.
On the bar counter, he noticed a pair of black leather gloves next to a glass of white wine. Her left arm rested nearby, idly playing with her rings, while the other lay on her lap. Her posture was slightly hunched, a blend of relaxation and tension that most would overlook, but he, of course, did not.
There she was.
As he reached her, he sat down on the stool to her right, readjusting the cuffs of his suit jacket as he faced the array of different types of alcohol displayed behind the bar.
Noticing his presence, she stopped fidgeting with her rings and straightened her posture. She grabbed her drink for a sip, uncrossing her legs as she did so.
Silence enveloped them. Despite the faint chatter and jazz music in the background, it surrounded them quickly, like fog. No words had been exchanged, yet the tension was visible. Clearing her throat, she broke the silence with a touch of irony in her voice. “Want a drink?” she asked, glancing at him briefly before turning her attention back to her glass.
“Sure,” he replied, his tone a blend of sternness and reluctant gentleness, as if he were navigating between anger and an unspoken need to be polite.
She nodded and lifted her glass to catch the bartender’s attention. With a slight gesture, she signaled for another round. The bartender acknowledged her request with a nod before retreating to prepare the drink.
Setting her glass back on the bar, she sighed deeply, a sound that conveyed both frustration and resignation. “You know, I’m surprised you came,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of genuine curiosity beneath a layer of sarcasm.
“Well, you called,” he replied immediately, leaning back against the leather stool.
Her lips curved into a small smirk. “Didn’t know you could actually respond to calls,” she shot back.
He smirked back, though it felt forced. “I figured I’d make an exception. Besides, you always did have a knack for the dramatic.”
“Ah, yes, because showing up at a hotel bar in a fancy dress is sooo over-the-top...” she said, rolling her eyes, the flicker of annoyance barely hidden behind her calm facade.
“Just like disappearing on me without any explanation after crashing at my place, clearly influenced,” he shot back bluntly, raising his glass to take a sip. His tone was accusatory, the edge of his words like a blade.
She scoffed, shaking her head as if the conversation were beneath her. Her gaze fell to her cup, her fingers tracing the handle with a detached grace. What did he even know?
“Didn’t think you’d care enough to notice. It’s nothing new. You’ve made that very clear before..” she said, her voice sharp and clipped, trying to sound nonchalant but barely concealing the pain underneath.
Five turned to glare at her, a short, sarcastic chuckle escaping his lips. “As if you’re the model of consistency. At least I’m not the one running away every time things get too complicated.”
Her expression shifted, and for a moment, the facade she usually maintained cracked. Her eyes widened slightly with hurt and disbelief, a marked departure from the collected demeanor she often displayed or the playful facade she adopted when under the influence.
His words cut deeper than he could know.
His accusation hit her with a raw honesty that felt like a personal assault, laying bare a vulnerability she was never prepared to reveal. It was one thing to quietly wrestle with her flaws; it was another entirely to have them ruthlessly exposed by someone she had only recently come to care about. The pain was sharp, more intense than any physical injury she had ever endured.
She had never revealed the true reason behind why she left the commission nearly a year ago. Even she didn’t fully understand why, only that she felt trapped, as if her life were stuck in a rut with no way forward. And leaving seemed like the perfect choice to resolve that. The fact that he had now indirectly exposed her insecurities was almost unbearable. It was as if he had peeled away her protective layers, laying her imperfections bare and making her feel as though her struggles were on display for him to judge.
If there was one thing she had always wanted, it was to be seen for who she truly was. But this exposure felt more like a wound than a revelation.
“I don’t know if it’s you being stubborn like always... but maybe I’m just not good at pretending everything is fine like you are,” she said, her voice steady but edged with steel.
Her eyes, however, told a different story ─ slightly misted and defiant as they met his. After a moment, she turned away, her posture tense and her gaze fixed firmly ahead.
Five watched her, his initial anger giving way to a look of shocked realization. Her reaction troubled him, making him see the impact his words had. As he turned away, his glare softened into an unreadable expression, and the weight of their conversation settled heavily between them.
The silence that followed was thick and suffocating, an all-too-familiar companion in their interactions. It seemed to be ever-present, with the noise around them fading into the background.
Soon, Five's drink arrived, and he muttered a small thanks to the bartender, who nodded and returned to his tasks. The mundane gesture felt trivial compared to the weight of the conflict that had just unfolded.
At that moment, none of this seemed to answer any of Five's questions. He was still left wondering, and after seeing her reaction earlier, he sensed it was more than just a case of running away.
He took a sip of his drink, savoring its smoothness as it went down, but it did little to ease the knot in his stomach. Glancing sideways at her, he noticed how her fingers played with the edge of her glass, a subtle indication of her own unease.
“Why’d you call me here, yn?...” Five finally asked, his voice breaking the heavy silence. His tone was softer now, laced with genuine curiosity and a hint of concern.
She stopped fiddling with the glass, letting out a deep sigh as her shoulders rose and fell with the weight of her breath. “Why does it even matter anymo—”
“Because I've waited long enough. In fact, I’m genuinely curious to hear your latest excuse for bringing me out here,” he interjected with a hint of sarcasm, turning to face her. His tone was stern but way less severe than before.
She turned to him, her eyes narrowing slightly. She couldn't believe him. Her tone remained calm, but annoyance was evident in both her words and her expression. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I just wanna talk? Or is that something you don’t care about either?”
Five arched an eyebrow, leaning back slightly. “Talk? Since when do we just ta—“
She clenched her jaw, her fingers tightening around her glass, the liquid inside catching the dim light. “Since that night... We both know something happened, even if it annoys me to be the one to say it first.”
His expression softened, but his tone remained guarded. “If something happened, then why leave? You had no reaso—”
“Don't even start, Hargreeves.” She scoffed, shaking her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “I had plenty of reasons.” She sighed deeply, taking a moment to smooth back her hair, her movements measured and precise. “Just listen before you start complaining..”
He turned his body slightly towards her, a gesture meant to show that he was fully engaged. Part of him felt that this might be futile and that he should just leave before things got any worse. Yet, he was driven by a need for answers. Answers he doubted she would even provi—
“Despite how I felt afterward.. you didn’t exactly reassure me about your feelings that night. Yes, you helped me out when I needed it, and I left without properly thanking you, which I apologize for. But you shouldn’t have expected me to stay. You said it yourself ─ we’re not exactly friends, so why would I think you suddenly cared whether I stayed or left? I was scared. What I said to you that night? I hadn’t even realized I felt that way about you.. and I knew that if I ever wanted to see you again, willingly this time, it would be after I figured everything out.”
She paused, her gaze distant. “It scared me, feeling like I needed to be considerate with you. From the beginning, I told myself that’s how things would always be between us ─ insults, pointless bickering, and unnecessary arguments over the smallest things. But you made it so complicated sometimes. Looking back, I realized I kept up the banter because you did. Part of me felt like I was delusional, sensing something unreadable whenever we were together... unless, of course, you annoyed me too much. But I convinced myself I was just overthinking it, so I never said anything. And it stayed that way, until I saw you again.”
“I had already convinced myself that you didn’t see it that way, which is why I left you alone. It wasn’t out of hatred, but for my own sake ─ and in a way, for yours too.” She offered a small, forced smile. “It’s almost ironic. I thought you hated me even more for showing up unannounced that night. And I was okay with reciprocating that.. until I wasn't. Those few weeks away, I finally realized what that unreadable feeling was.” She glanced down at her drink again.
“…You can say what you want, but I'd rather tell you now than never at all. I’m so tired of pretending I don’t care when every fiber of my being is screaming otherwise, Five. It’s exhausting.” She slowly turned to look at him, her expression nearly blank except for her misty eyes. Her sincerity was evident, and her first glass of wine wasn’t even empty yet. She meant it.
Oh.
Five froze, her words hitting him like a tidal wave. He had expected an argument, a continuation of their usual back-and-forth, but not this raw, unfiltered honesty. He didn’t know what to say. His mind raced, trying to process everything she had just laid bare. He had always seen her as someone who was just as tough and guarded as he was, but now she was revealing a vulnerability he hadn’t anticipated.
He stared at her expression, noticing the way her eyes searched his, looking for something ─ recognition, understanding, maybe even acceptance. It was the same look she had given him that night, minus the small, stupid drunken smile. It struck him deeply, making him realize something he had tried to ignore. Her words that fateful night? They were real. His only way to doubt them had been to blame her intoxicated state, but those eyes... they were the same ones staring at him now, clear and earnest.
He struggled to conceal the whirlpool of emotions churning within him. A sharp pang of guilt struck him, stemming from his failure to recognize her feelings sooner and allowing his own fears and insecurities to cloud his judgment.
In his obsession with seeking closure over her departure that night, he had become so fixated on his own grievances that he nearly overlooked the true significance of her words. She had reached out for help, and he had been the only person she could turn to ─ the one who, more than anyone, understood her.
He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. “So, that night… you meant it? All of it?” His voice came out softer than intended, betraying a hint of the vulnerability he rarely showed. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to keep his gaze on hers.
She gave a soft nod, a single tear trailing down her cheek. He exhaled quietly, his own nod acknowledging her response.
Noticing his lack of words, she became a bit worried. “What? Is that all your going to s—”
He took a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside him. “I don’t do heartfelt revelations very well, but..” He slowly turned his body to face forward again, his gaze fixed on the distant, blurry outline of the bar’s back wall, as if searching for the right words in the emptiness that stretched before him. “I guess you’re not the only one who’s realized they care too...”
Turning his head back to her, he met her eyes. Her familiar, guarded expression remained, but her gaze was different ─ softer, more vulnerable. It was as if his admission had shifted something fundamental between them, making the walls they had both meticulously constructed begin to crumble. The space between them, once filled with tension and unspoken words, seemed to shrink.
His response, though brief, seemed to bridge a gap he hadn’t realized was so wide. To anyone else, it might have seemed insufficient, too simple to address the complex web of emotions they had both woven over time. But for her, it was enough.
The room seemed to hold its breath around them. The reddish lighting from the bar mingled with the warm, dim glow enveloping them, casting an almost ethereal light that framed her features. In that moment, she appeared more stunning than ever, her beauty accentuated by the soft, enchanting illumination.
It felt eerily familiar ─ the description, the feeling, the sight. But this time, she wasn’t covered in blood or drunk. It was just.. her.
For a fleeting moment, the world outside the bar seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of them in a cocoon of raw emotion. The weight of everything unsaid hung in the air, heavy and apparent.
Before Five could react further, she leaned in abruptly, her lips meeting his in a kiss.
It was swift and unexpected, a brief, electric connection that sent a jolt through both of them. His initial surprise quickly melted into a mix of confusion and intense emotion.
As she pulled away, her eyes remained locked onto his, filled with a blend of resolve and vulnerability. Their faces were just inches apart, reminiscent of the night he had pinned her on his wall. Yet, without the weight of weapons or animosity between them, the proximity felt almost intimate.
He noticed the subtle tremble in her lips and the softness that lingered in her gaze. The kiss had been fleeting, but its impact was undeniable ─ a heavy, lingering promise or perhaps an apology, wrapped in its brief intensity.
It was as if she had conveyed everything she couldn't say in that single, potent touch.
“...What was that?” he managed to ask, his voice emerging as a hushed whisper. He struggled to mask the vulnerability that surged beneath his composed exterior.
“My raison d'être. A change of pace. My apology to you. Take your pick, Hargreeves.” She said softly, a small, knowing smirk tugging at her lips as she observed the flushed look on his face. One of her hands gently touched his cheek, a gesture both tender and teasing. She could already imagine the amusement she’d find in teasing him about this moment in the future.
Seeing his dazed reaction, she let out a soft chuckle before slowly withdrawing, gently wiping away the stray tears that had formed. It felt almost symbolic, as if she was brushing away the worries and anxieties she had harbored while waiting for him earlier that evening. Maybe it truly was worth the weight, she thought.
With deliberate movements, she finished her glass of wine, savoring the last sip as if to mark the end of this moment. She then began to gather her belongings, her actions smooth as she prepared to leave.
With a swift motion, he gently grabbed ahold of her arm. “W-wait... are you leaving?” Five asked, his voice tinged with bewilderment, as if he had just been jolted from a deep sleep. The surreal quality of the past few minutes left him grappling for a grasp on reality.
As she slipped her coat and gloves back on, she turned to face him once more. “I'm not leaving ─ well, not entirely. I’ll be physically walking out, but... I’ll see you soon.”
It was a promise.
She paused, taking in his appearance ─ his slightly tousled hair, the confusion etched on his face, and the flush that crept up his cheeks. It was a sight she found both endearing and captivating. She could already imagine the fun she’d have teasing him about this moment.
With one last, gentle smile, she began to walk away. His soft grip on her loosened, and her steps were measured and deliberate, each one echoing the calm determination in her demeanor.
As she moved toward the exit, she felt a notion of relief and clarity. The kiss had been a leap, a step into the unknown that had, for the first time in a long while, cleared a path forward. She was leaving with her thoughts swirling, but without the weight of her unresolved feelings holding her back any longer.
Raison d'être (n.) ─ A fundamental reason for existence, a purpose or justification that drives one’s actions and existence. It represents the core motivation or underlying principle that gives meaning and direction to one’s life or endeavors.
The definition seemed to swarm Five's head as he recited it in his thoughts, word for word.
It seemed to swirl around him, wrapping itself around his thoughts with a relentless persistence. It was an old habit that he had never quite shaken. Whenever any of his siblings inquired about the meaning of a word, he would respond with a detailed and precise definition. Even in the midst of conversations, his mind would often return to the precise clarity of words and their meanings.
Guess old habits really do die hard.
But tonight, it wasn’t just any word. The term had been spoken with an unexpected gravity, leaving him with a deeper sense of meaning than he had anticipated.
As he turned his gaze back to the bar, watching her until she was out of sight, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she had irreversibly altered his understanding of himself.
The bar had slowly emptied, its vibrant energy giving way to a quiet, subdued ambiance. The once lively chatter and blaring laughter had faded, leaving behind a more peaceful scene. The clinking of glasses and the occasional shuffle of footsteps were now distant echoes, barely perceptible over the gentle hum of remaining conversations.
A few patrons lingered at their tables and stools, their voices blending into a soft murmur that filled the space with a relaxed, contemplative atmosphere. The once bustling room was now illuminated by the warm, scarlet glow of overhead lights, casting a soft, intimate light over the polished wooden surfaces and the scattered remnants of the evening ─ empty glasses, cocktail napkins, and the occasional half-eaten snack.
The feeling of the small kiss she had given him remained on his lips, a fleeting touch that felt both monumental and oddly intimate. It was short, yet it had left an indelible mark, a reminder of what he had failed to notice earlier.
In that quiet moment, it settled in fully. She was the answer to his endless array of thoughts and burdens.
The one person he had tried so hard to distance himself from was actually the key to his closure.
It felt strange to admit, almost as if it diminished his carefully constructed emotional defenses, but it was also a relief to finally accept. He understood now that she was the missing piece he needed, the one who could offer the satisfaction and closure he had been seeking.
The faint strains of “Hasta Mañana” by ABBA drifted through the background, its melody weaving through the dimly lit bar with an almost ethereal quality.
The gentle, nostalgic tune seemed to resonate with the melancholy of the evening, making it feel as if the universe was aligning almost perfectly.
He sat there for a moment longer, savoring the last of his wine before downing it in one final, decisive gulp. He sighed deeply, placing the empty glass down with a sense of finality. He stood up, adjusting his jacket and straightening outfit, feeling the weight of his newfound understanding settling over him.
If this were a film, the scene would close with him walking out of the frame, leaving behind two empty wine glasses, right next to each other, illuminated by the soft, warm light of the bar.
As he made his way towards the exit, passing through the revolving doors, he thought to himself, the lady had been right.
Things did turn out okay, or at least they were on their way to being alright.
yousharknotpass
gummygunk
