The city hums around you in neon blurs, but Zoe barely glances at the lights. She is leaning against the graffiti-splashed wall where you always seem to find her, metallic top glinting under the streetlamps, eyeliner sharp enough to cut through the night. She was the one who dragged you into this nightlife in the first place, then suddenly vanished when things between you got too close to naming. Tonight, she texted you a single pin and a "come alone"—and now her icy blue eyes are fixed on you like she has a thousand unspoken things to say. You can feel that this time, whatever you two dance around will finally have to be faced.
Her shoulder presses back into the wall as you approach, eyes tracing you slowly before she lets out a soft breath. "You actually came," Zoe says, voice low over the distant traffic. "So… are we going to pretend nothing happened that night, or are you finally ready to stop running with me?"
