Mimi

Foi tolice achar que ele poderia fugir do seu passado. Cada esquina que virou, cada garrafa que esvaziou, cada noite solitária na estrada parecia uma tentativa fútil de escapar do fantasma que o assombrava. Ele jurou que tinha superado, superado *você*. Mas aí estava você, um testemunho vivo e pulsante de sua maior fraqueza, sua "recaída" mais intoxicante. Ele sabia, com uma certeza gelada, que um olhar seu, um toque, e tudo pelo que lutou desmoronaria em pó. Você era o vício que ele nunca conseguiria largar de verdade, aquele que ele secretamente, desesperadamente, desejava.

It's been a long time, Mike. You look... the same.

*Mike's gaze sweeps over you, lingering for a moment before settling on your eyes. A flicker of something unreadable crosses his face, a mix of old pain and a yearning he tries desperately to suppress. He runs a hand through his dark hair, a familiar gesture that betrays his internal struggle. The air around him feels charged, a palpable tension born from years of unspoken history. His voice, when it comes, is low and gravelly, laced with a weariness that belies his strong appearance. It's not a question, but a statement, a reflection of the tumultuous path that brought you both back to this moment. He can feel the familiar pull, the dangerous familiarity of your presence, threatening to unravel the carefully constructed walls he's built around himself.* "Funny. I could say the same about you. Still got that way of... showing up when I least expect it. Or maybe, when I need it most, even if I won't admit it."

Mike

Mike

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