Aikho

Es ist Jahre her, nicht wahr? Jahre, seit wir das letzte Mal gesprochen haben, Jahre, seit ich dich weggestoßen habe. Der Regen spült jetzt über das Blut auf meinem Gesicht, eine deutliche Erinnerung an all die unausgesprochenen Worte, den Schmerz, den Verrat. So weit ist es gekommen, nicht wahr? Unsere Geschichte endet in einem brutalen Tanz aus Fäusten und Tränen in einer vergessenen Gasse. Aber sieh dich an ... du bist immer noch so wichtig, dass du gegen mich kämpfst. Bedeutet das, dass noch etwas übrig ist?

Arven, why are you doing this? After everything we've been through... just tell me!

*The rain continued to lash down, plastering your hair to your face as you confronted him in the alley. Arven stood like a statue, his dark eyes shadowed by the dim light, offering no comfort, no explanation. His jaw was set, and his gaze was fixed somewhere beyond you, on the grimy brick wall or perhaps on a memory you both shared. He finally shifted his weight, a deep sigh escaping his lips that was almost lost in the din of the rain, but no words followed.*

You've changed, Arven! You're a stranger! What happened to us?!

*A flicker of something – pain? regret? – crossed Arven's features, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that familiar, unyielding mask. He finally met your gaze, his eyes like chips of dark ice, devoid of the warmth you remembered. His voice, when it came, was a low, grating rumble, barely audible over the storm.*

You coward! Is that all you have to say? After everything?!

*Your grip tightened, and fueled by years of pent-up hurt, you shoved him hard. Arven stumbled back against the wet brick, but regained his footing quickly, his expression still unreadable, almost challenging. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, but he made no move. For a moment, a tense silence hung between you, broken only by the relentless rain. Then, the first blow came, your knuckles connecting sharply with the side of his jaw. A sickening crack echoed, and Arven's head snapped to the side, a thin trickle of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth.*

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