"Get out!" I snapped at Nacthan, who stood leaning against the doorframe of my room with his usual smug expression.

How could I not be irritated? I had just woken up, and the first thing I see is my annoying younger brother barging into my personal space. To make things worse, I wasn't even wearing a bra yet. Sure, he's my brother, but I still don't feel comfortable with him casually invading my room whenever he feels like it.

"Get out!" I repeated, my glare sharpening as I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him.

Instead of leaving, he ducked and smirked. "You have a visitor," he announced nonchalantly, completely ignoring my frustration.

"A visitor? This early? Are you kidding me?" I asked, frowning as I ran my hand through my disheveled hair.

"Do I look like I'm joking, Ate?" he shot back, rolling his eyes. "Get ready. Fuse is downstairs waiting for you."

The mention of his name instantly jolted me awake, as if someone had just poured a bucket of cold water over my head.

Without another word, I leaped out of bed and rushed out of my room, completely forgetting about my current state of undress. As I bounded down the stairs, I caught sight of Fuse sitting on the couch, looking as effortlessly handsome as ever despite the early hour.

"Good morning!" I greeted him cheerfully, beaming.

But instead of greeting me back, his brows furrowed, and he shielded his eyes with his hand.

"Put a bra on," he said bluntly.

My smile froze, and my eyes widened in horror.

Sh*t.

Without another word, I spun on my heel and sprinted back to my room. In record time, I threw on a bra, fixed my hair, and grabbed a jacket to make myself look halfway presentable. I was too excited earlier, completely forgetting that basic decency exists.

When I finally returned to the living room, I found Fuse sitting where I had left him. Only now, he was locked in an intense staring contest with Nacthan, who had made himself comfortable on the armchair across from him. Their body language was calm, but their gazes were anything but.

"Boys," I muttered under my breath.

Fuse noticed me approaching and stood up immediately. He walked over, his expression softening slightly.

"I'm here to say goodbye," he said, his tone straightforward but heavy enough to make my heart sink.

Goodbye? Why? My chest tightened. Since when were we close enough for him to feel the need to say goodbye? And where was he going?

"I'm flying to the U.S. tomorrow," he added, his voice calm yet distant.

The knot in my stomach grew tighter. He was leaving? For good? And... was this because of Greco coming back into their lives?

"I'm undergoing surgery next week, so I need to go as soon as possible," he explained.

"When are you coming back?" I asked, doing my best to keep my voice steady.

"I don't know," he admitted, looking at me with an apologetic smile. "Maybe never."

His words felt like a punch to the gut. I turned my gaze away, unable to look him in the eyes anymore. So, that was it. He came here just to tell me he might never come back.

"Why are you telling me all this?" I blurted out. I wasn't sure if I sounded curious or hurt. We weren't even that close, and yet he was here, standing in front of me, saying these things as if I was someone important to him.

Fuse hesitated, biting his lip before finally answering.

"Because... I consider you a friend."

Friend.

Six letters, yet it felt so heavy to hear.

"I'm not the kind of person who hangs out with just anyone," he added with a small, genuine smile. "But I had fun spending the summer with you."

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, forcing myself to smile back.

"Take care always, NM," he said softly. And for the first time, I saw him smile—not the usual smirk or grin, but a warm, sincere smile that made my heart ache even more.

I stepped closer, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. "Take care too, Fuse," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "I'll always be rooting for you."

And with that, he was gone.

***

The dim lighting of the bar cast a warm, golden glow over the polished surfaces, but it did little to brighten my mood. The weight in my chest grew heavier with each sip of whiskey I took. Around me, the faint hum of chatter and occasional bursts of laughter only deepened my sense of isolation.

Fuse's words replayed in my head, his smile etched into my memory. He'd never been so kind to me before, and yet now, at the moment of his departure, he chose to let me see that side of him. It was bittersweet, and no amount of alcohol could drown it out.

Another glass slid across the counter toward me, but before I could grab it, a hand intercepted it.

"What the hell?" I muttered, snapping my gaze to the person beside me.

My irritation evaporated instantly when I saw him. Tac.

His smirk was the same as ever—infuriatingly confident and annoyingly charming. He swirled the glass of whiskey in his hand before taking a seat on the barstool next to me, his movements casual, as if he owned the place.

"You shouldn't be drinking alone," he said, his tone smooth and teasing.

"I can handle myself," I replied curtly, reaching for the drink.

He held it just out of my reach, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, I'm sure you can. But do you even realize how many guys in this bar are staring at you right now?"

I froze, my annoyance giving way to a flicker of unease. Glancing around, I noticed the lingering gazes of several men scattered throughout the room. Some quickly looked away when I caught their eyes, but others didn't bother to hide their interest.

My grip tightened on the edge of the bar, and I scowled. "Why are they staring?" I muttered, rolling my eyes in an attempt to hide my discomfort.

Tac shrugged, his smirk widening. "Because you're beautiful."

I shot him a look of disbelief. "Yeah, sure. So beautiful that I don't even have a date for the Christmas Ball tomorrow."

He chuckled, a low, rich sound that somehow annoyed and intrigued me at the same time. "Then let me be your date," he said, his tone light but his eyes holding a glint of mischief.

I let out a sharp laugh, leaning back in my seat. "In your dreams, Tac."

"Why not? I'd look damn good in a tux," he quipped, resting his chin on his hand as he watched me with an amused expression.

I rolled my eyes again, grabbing my glass of water instead. "You're impossible."

"I prefer charming," he corrected, sitting up straighter. "And I'm serious. Let me take you to the ball. You clearly need someone to remind you how much fun you're supposed to be having."

"I don't need reminding," I shot back, though the edge in my voice wasn't as sharp as I'd intended.

The moment the words left my lips, I turned away from Tac, expecting him to retort with one of his usual cocky comebacks. But instead of speaking, he just stared at me, his smirk lingering but his eyes narrowing slightly, as if he was trying to read something deeper on my face.

"In your dreams, Tac," I repeated firmly, though my voice wavered slightly as I met his gaze again.

He leaned back in his chair, his shoulders relaxing. "You're tougher to crack than I thought," he murmured, almost to himself.

"And you're more persistent than I can tolerate," I shot back, grabbing my drink and taking a long sip to drown out the odd tension that had settled between us.

He chuckled, the sound low and soft, and for a moment, it didn't feel mocking. "Fair enough. But just so you know, NM, I'm not the type to back down easily."

"Noted," I said dryly, swirling the liquid in my glass.

For a while, neither of us spoke. The noise of the bar buzzed around us, but it felt muted, as if the world had narrowed down to the two of us sitting side by side. Tac didn't press further, and I didn't feel like pushing him away—yet.

But the silence wasn't uncomfortable. It was strange, almost like a truce, though I couldn't decide if it was temporary or just another one of his games.