Creak.
The chair creaked as I sat down.
When did I come back to the cell?
I didn't know.
Everything happened so fast.
I was in the arena.
A second passed.
And I was back in the cell.
The light from the corridor blurred into waves around me.
Not bright.
Dull.
Like smoke.
It obscured my surroundings.
The table beneath my hands shook.
It felt like the world trembled around me.
But—
It wasn't the world.
It was me.
My body shook, hands trembling.
Hah.
My breath came out shallow.
Hah.
It felt like the collar had tightened.
Did it?
I didn't know.
There was just no air in my lungs.
No matter how often I breathed.
It felt like I didn't.
Bathump.
My heart.
Bathump.
It raced.
Boom.
No.
Boom.
It drummed.
Boom.
Just like the drums had.
Boom.
Like I was still there.
And—
I could still feel it.
My hands.
His neck.
His pulse.
The warmth of his body.
Then the cold.
I closed my eyes.
It didn't help.
Between my fingers.
The twitch from his body.
My ears.
His voice.
The last "No—" that broke halfway out of his throat.
I heard it again.
The sound when I ended it.
Crack.
It was small.
But it weighed me down.
His weight did too.
It was heavy.
I could still feel it in my arms—that slow surrender.
A whisper.
"I killed him."
Was it my voice?
My hands rose and covered my ears.
"Murderer."
"Killer."
"Monster."
"You murderer."
The whisper continued.
The air in the room thickened.
Hah.
Did the collar tighten again?
Hah.
I clawed at my face as if I could tear the memory out of myself.
My eyes opened.
My vision swam.
Where am I?
Everything blurred.
No.
The smell.
It remained.
Sharp.
Blood.
My stomach twisted.
I felt sick.
Then—
"Adonis."
The voice was soft.
Everything stopped.
The drum of my heart.
The shallow breaths.
The tremor in my hands.
The stench of blood.
Gone.
Thud.
My hands fell onto the table.
That voice.
It shouldn't be here.
It couldn't be.
I turned my head.
In the chair beside me, someone sat.
Her elbows rested on the table. Her chin was propped in her hands. She watched me with a look I had nearly forgotten even existed.
The world was still a blur.
But—
That voice.
I knew it.
My lips moved.
A whisper escaped me.
"Lisa?"
She answered as if it were the simplest truth in the world.
"Yes."
She didn't move closer and just watched me, head tilted slightly.
The word felt heavy when I said it.
"No."
I stammered, my voice cracked.
"That…that can't be you."
She looked surprised.
"Why not?"
I shook my head.
"You're dead. You died. I saw it. The crash. The blood. The—"
She cut me off.
"Adonis."
A pause.
Then—
"You died too. Don't you remember?"
Silence.
My hands went into my hair, gripping hard as I shook my head.
"That's not—"
I swallowed.
"That's not how it works."
She raised one hand.
"And yet you're still here. Breathing. Talking."
Her finger lifted, pointing at my chest.
"Alive."
I stared at her.
She was exactly as I remembered.
Stubborn and unyielding.
My throat tightened.
I forced the words out.
"No… You can't be."
She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands.
"If you are real," she asked gently, "why can't I be?"
I tried to answer.
"Because…"
But the sentence collapsed under its own weight.
The words felt wrong as I spoke again.
"Because...you're not real."
She blinked and asked quietly.
"Does it hurt to say that?"
Silence.
I turned my head.
I couldn't look at her.
She spoke again, softer.
"Adonis. Do you really want me to go away?"
I didn't turn.
But I heard her shift in her seat, as if to stand.
The movement was small.
But it was enough.
I panicked.
My head turned.
The words left me before I could think.
"Don't go."
She watched me, her eyebrows lifting slightly.
"You don't want me to go?"
I shook my head, voice weak.
"Stay."
She smiled.
"Then I'll stay."
I let out a breath when she sat again.
My eyes closed for just a moment.
A blink.
And suddenly—
She wasn't a blur anymore.
Dark brown hair fell over her shoulders, strands catching the light like threads of gold. Bright green eyes met mine—eyes that made it feel like nothing else in the world existed beside us.
Her hands rested beneath her chin, delicate fingers half-covering the curve of her nose. Her full lips curved into that smile I thought I'd never see again.
The one meant only for me.
She wore a white hoodie.
My hoodie.
The one she stole because it 'looked better on her anyway'.
The fabric hung loose around her, sleeves too long, hiding her wrists as she leaned forward. Blue jeans wrapped around her long legs, one knee tucked beneath the other—the way she always sat when she was thinking.
Around her neck hung the thin silver chain I'd given her. The small blue gem at its center caught the faint light.
She said it reminded her of my eyes.
A soft breeze moved through the room, brushing her hair aside. It carried the faint scent of her perfume—Yune flowers.
Her lips parted as she asked softly.
"Do you remember our first date?"
The memory surfaced instantly.
Our first date.
It was nothing special at first. We walked through the city without a plan. I thought spontaneity would be enough.
It wasn't.
The date wasn't going well.
She'd already lost interest and was about to go home.
Then—
I asked her to dance.
There was no special reason behind it.
We were still in the city, on some random street, when she said 'yes'.
And that was how it all started.
A small chuckle escaped me.
"You mean the one where I brought you home soaked wet?"
Lisa watched me silently for a moment.
Then—
Step.
She stood up and stepped closer. Her hand reached for me while she bowed her head—just like I had back then.
A smile spread across her lips.
"Then," she asked, "shall we dance?"