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THE PARTY WAS WELL AND ALIVE WITH ENERGY—thumping music, strobe lights flickering over the crowd, and the faint scent of pumpkin-spiced air mingling with sweat. y/n on the other hand sat stiffly at the bar, her fingers nervously drumming against the base of her soda glass. She stared at the bubbly amber liquid, unsure how long she'd been sitting there beside the blonde.

Tory sulked on the stool, her own drink—a fizzy lemonade—clutched tightly in her hands. For a while, neither said a word. The silence between them was as thick as it had been the day they first crossed paths again in Seoul. Except this time, there was no sparring mat between them, no orders from Kreese or Kim forcing them to engage. It was just them. Two girls with too much history and too many scars.

"So..." Tory started, her tone casual, but the weight of her words was anything but. "You've been here long?"

"I don't understand what that's supposed to mean," y/n replied robotically, her gaze fixed on the condensation sliding down her glass.

Tory rolled her eyes, but did not give up yet, her fingers fidgeting with the straw in her drink. "Seoul's... different from what I expected. Busier. Crowded."

"It's not so bad once you get used to it," the girl said, her voice clipped, still avoiding eye contact.

Small talk. Safe, impersonal, and utterly meaningless. Tory hated it, but she didn't know how to dive into the storm brewing between them just yet. She glanced at Yoon across the room, chatting with some guys by the beer pong table. His words from earlier echoed in her mind: "You have to keep trying with y/n. She's stubborn, but she's not a bad person."

"Y/n," Tory said finally, her voice firmer. "This is weird, isn't it?"

The y/h/c-haired skeleton blinked and finally looked at her, startled by the sudden honesty. "What?"

"Us. Sitting here. Talking like this," Tory continued, gesturing vaguely between them. "I mean, come on. The last time we talked—really talked—you were in my house, freaking out over your parents finding out about that party. And now... here we are. After everything."

Y/n stiffened at the memory. "Yeah. Weird."

Tory let out a bitter laugh, her fingers tightening around her drink. "You don't have to agree so quickly, you know."

Y/n gave her a sidelong glance. "What do you want me to say, Tory? That it's not weird? That it feels normal after—what? Two years? After all that happened?"

"That's exactly what I'm talking about!" Tory snapped, her voice rising slightly before she caught herself and lowered it. "It's been two years, y/n. And we've just been... what? Pretending like none of it mattered? Like nothing ever happened--" She broke off, exhaling sharply. "Like we never even crossed paths?"

Y/n cringed, her fingers tightening around her glass. "I didn't have a choice."

"Bullshit," Tory hissed, leaning closer. "You didn't even try. You just... left. You ghosted everyone—me, Hawk, everyone at school. Like we were nothing. Like I was nothing."

"I wasn't your responsibility, Tory," y/n shot back, her voice quivering slightly. "You didn't owe me anything."

"Didn't I?" Tory's voice cracked, her usually fiery tone softening into something raw and unguarded. "You were the only friend I ever had, y/n/n. The only person who didn't look at me like I was some... some broken, crazy, psychotic killing doll. And I thought—I hoped—that meant something. But when things went to shit, you bailed. And I-I blamed myself for it. Every single day."

Y/n's throat tightened. She wanted to respond, to say something, anything, but Tory wasn't done.

"I thought maybe it was my fault," The blonde continued, her voice breaking. "That if I hadn't dragged you into that fight, if I hadn't been such a mess, maybe you wouldn't have... hated me enough to leave."

"I didn't hate you," y/n whispered, her voice shaking.

"Then why?" Tory demanded, tears glistening in her eyes. "Why did you leave, y/n? Why didn't you say goodbye? Why did you block everybody on every platform?"

Y/n's vision blurred as her own tears welled up. She looked down, her jaw clenched tightly. "I didn't have a choice," she repeated, her voice barely audible. "My parents—they didn't give me one. They packed our things and shipped me off to South Korea before I could even think."

"And you didn't fight back?" Tory pressed, her tone incredulous. "You just let them take you?"

"What was I supposed to do, Tory?" Y/N snapped, her voice rising. "Stay? Stay and watch Miguel fight for his life because of us? Stay and face everyone—everything—I ruined? I got expelled 'cause of that fight. I would've been taken to juvie if my parents hadn't intervened."

Tory froze, her eyes widening as she realized how little y/n really knew about all that happened after her departure. "...Miguel?"

Y/n's chest heaved as the words spilled out, raw and unfiltered. "Do you have any idea what it was like to see him lying there? With his mom and yaya bawling their eyes out next to his unconscious body all night long? To know that we—that I—put him there? I could've caught him, Tory. But I was too late. I couldn't face any of it..."

The silence that followed was deafening. The blonde stared at her, her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. For the first time in years, y/n's walls had cracked, and the truth poured out like a flood.

"You can call me a pussy all you want, Nichols," y/n said, her voice breaking. " But leaving was possibly the safest things I could do. You think I didn't want to contact you or Eli? You think I didn't want to see you one last time before I'd leave presumably forever? I did what I did because I had no choice. So you can hate me all you want, but don't you dare act like I never cared."

Tory swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to her lap. "I didn't know," she whispered.

"Of course you didn't," y/n scoffed bitterly, sipping her drink. "I didn't tell you. I didn't tell anyone. I just... disappeared."

The silence that followed was heavy, awkward, and thick with unspoken emotions. Neither of them moved, both frozen in the wake of their confessions. y/n wiped at her face, sniffing quietly, while Tory swirled her straw in her lemonade, staring down at the melting ice. It felt like the weight of two years had suddenly been dropped on the bar between them, and neither quite knew what to do with it.

Finally, y/n let out a shaky breath, glancing sideways at Tory. "You know... I always thought we could've... I don't know... handled things differently. Maybe if we had—"

"Don't," Tory interrupted gently, shaking her head. "Don't go there. It happened. We can't change it."

Y/n's fingers traced patterns on the side of her glass. "You sound so sure of that."

"I've had to be," The blonde admitted, her voice low but steady. "If I let myself think about everything I could've done differently... I'd drown in it."

Y/n glanced at her, surprised by the vulnerability in her tone. "You don't have to carry all of it, you know."

Tory gave her a small, sour laugh. "Funny, coming from you."

The girl's mouth opened to argue, but then she stopped. Tory wasn't wrong. For all her guilt and self-loathing, y/n had done exactly what Tory was accusing her of—carried everything alone, refusing to let anyone in. She swallowed hard, the weight of that realization settling in her chest.

Across from her, Tory stared at her drink, her fingers tapping nervously against the table. Deep down, she felt the stab of guilt that had been haunting her since the moment she'd seen y/n again. The girl had no idea what was coming, no idea that Miyagi-Do had entered the tournament. And as much as Tory wanted to tell her, warn her, she couldn't. Not with Kreese and Kim watching their every move. Not with everything at stake.

So instead, she took a long sip of her lemonade and nodded. "Maybe Sensei Kreese is right..." she said softly. "All this... hate... angst we have inside of us, maybe if we could channel that into our fighting together as a team... it could benefit the entire dojo."

The conversation softened after that. The sharp edges of their earlier confrontation dulled into something quieter, gentler. They began to talk—not as enemies or even old friends, but as two people trying to make sense of a fractured connection.

"Maybe you're right..." y/n mumbled, nodding along, swirling her soda.

"I never hated you, you know," She said after a while, her voice barely above a whisper. "Even when I left. Even when everything fell apart. I just... I couldn't deal with it."

Tory looked at her, her brows furrowing slightly. "I know," she said after a long pause. "I think I always knew. I just... it still hurt."

"I get that," the girl admitted. "It wasn't fair to you. Or to anyone. And I'm sorry for that. I really am."

Tory hesitated, the words catching in her throat. Apologizing wasn't something she was used to—it felt foreign, awkward. But as she looked at y/n, saw the raw honesty in her eyes, she knew she had to say it.

"I'm sorry, too," Tory said quietly. "For everything. For dragging you into the fight, for... for blaming you when you left. I didn't understand back then, but I think... I think I do now."

Y/n's lips curved into a faint, sad smile. "Guess we both messed up, huh?"

Tory chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. "Yeah. Big time."

They sat there for a while longer, the conversation ebbing and flowing as they slowly began to piece together the fragments of their relationship. They talked about the past—about the party where Tory had saved y/n from a terrible situation, about the fight that had torn everything apart, about the moments they'd shared before it all went wrong. It wasn't easy, and it wasn't perfect, but it was real. 

And for the first time in years, it felt like they were finally beginning to understand each other.

Still, beneath the surface, Tory's guilt lingered. She couldn't shake the feeling that y/n deserved to know the truth about the tournament, about what was coming. But she also knew that telling her would put them both in danger. So she swallowed the words, burying them deep, and tried to focus on the moment instead.

As the night wore on, the tension between them began to ease. The laughter that occasionally bubbled up was tentative but genuine, and the smiles they exchanged were small but meaningful. It wasn't forgiveness—not yet—but it was something. 

And for now, that was enough.

The lull in their conversation was interrupted as y/n stared into her drink, her thoughts swirling. Memories of that night at Tory's cramped apartment surfaced—how she had seen firsthand the weight Tory carried, taking care of her sick mother and younger brother. The y/h/c-haired girl had always admired her strength, even when she hadn't said it out loud.

She glanced over at her friend, who was absently stirring the ice in her drink with the straw. "How's your family?" She asked hesitantly, her voice soft but hopeful. "Your mom, brother... are they doing okay?"

The question made Tory freeze mid-motion. Her hand stilled, and for a moment, her expression became unreadable. She set her glass down carefully, staring at it like it held all the answers to the things she couldn't say. Then she let out a small, shaky breath.

"She's gone," Tory said quietly, her voice cracking on the last word.

Y/n blinked, not understanding at first. "Gone? What do you mean?"

Tory didn't look up, her eyes fixed on the condensation dripping down her glass. "My mother," she said, her voice trembling. "She died. About a month ago."

The words hit y/n like a punch to the gut. Her chest tightened, and she felt an overwhelming wave of guilt wash over her. "Tory..." she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The blonde shrugged, but her attempt at nonchalance crumbled quickly. "It was bound to happen eventually," she said, her tone bitter but laced with pain. "She was sick for so long. We were just... hanging on."

Y/n's eyes filled with tears as she realized just how little she had understood. All this time, she had been angry, blaming Tory for everything that had gone wrong. She had never once stopped to think about what she might have been going through. What kind of pain she had been carrying, silently, without anyone to lean on.

"I should've been there,"y/n said, her voice breaking. "I should've—God, Tory, I'm so sorry."

Tory shook her head, blinking rapidly as her own tears started to fall. "You didn't know," she said, her voice strained. "And honestly, what could you have done? I've been handling this shit alone my whole life. What's one more thing, right?"

But the crack in her voice betrayed her, and y/n couldn't hold back anymore. She stood abruptly, wrapping her arms around Tory and pulling her into a tight hug. Tory stiffened at first, caught off guard, but then she broke. All the walls she had spent years building came crashing down as she clung to y/n, burying her face in her shoulder.

"I'm sorry," y/n sobbed, her tears soaking into Tory's shirt. "I'm so, so sorry. I was so selfish, so caught up in my own shit—I didn't even think about what you were going through."

Tory shook her head, her body trembling as she cried. "No... I'm sorry. I blamed you for everything, but I didn't-I didn't know how else to deal with it. You leaving, Miguel... probation ... it felt like losing everything all over again."

They held onto each other tightly, their sobs drowned out by the noise of the party around them. For a moment, the world disappeared, and it was just the two of them—two broken girls clinging to each other, trying to find solace in shared pain.

"I should've been there for you," y/n whispered, her voice shaking. "You didn't deserve to go through that alone."

Tory pulled back slightly, her face streaked with tears. "Neither did you," she said, her voice hoarse. "We were both just... trying to survive."

Across the room, Yoon was leaning against the bar, his easy charm in full effect as he flirted with a girl from Seoul University. His arm rested casually across her shoulder, his smile as smooth as ever. He had just offered to buy her a drink when his eyes drifted over to the other end of the bar—and froze.

There, in the midst of the party's chaotic noise and flashing lights, y/n and Tory were locked in a tearful embrace. Their faces were... painted a gross shade of grey, streaked with tears, and their bodies trembled as they clung to each other like their lives depended on it. It was raw, intense, and completely out of place in the middle of the raucous party scene.

The boy's expression softened, a small, proud smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He stood there for a moment, watching silently, his chest swelling with a strange mix of relief and pride. It was like watching two puzzle pieces finally click into place after years of being lost. They still had a long way to go, but seeing them like this—finally breaking down the walls between them—felt like a victory.

The girl next to him tilted her head, frowning slightly as she noticed his sudden distraction. "Is everything okay?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

Yoon blinked, snapping out of his thoughts. He realized he'd been standing there for too long, staring like a proud mother at her kids' school play. He quickly shook his head, laughing lightly to cover his lapse. "Yeah, yeah. Everything's fine," he said, his charm back in full force. "Sorry about that. Let's get you that drink."

The girl gave him a skeptical look but shrugged it off as he led her toward the bartender, his hand still casually resting on her shoulder. But even as he turned away, Yoon couldn't help but glance back one last time at y/n and Tory, his smile lingering.

"That's another win for Do-jin... Sensei will be proud. I will get my Geum baeji again." he thought to himself, before diving back into the evening with his usual, prideful strut.

As y/n and Tory pulled apart, the tension between them had finally eased, replaced by a fragile but real sense of understanding. Both of them were a wreck—tear-streaked faces and smeared skeleton paint making them look even messier than before. y/n wiped her cheeks with trembling hands, trying to compose herself, though her breath still hitched occasionally.

Tory let out a shaky laugh, gesturing at her friend's ruined face paint. "Well, we definitely look like we've been through hell."

Y/n managed a weak smile, sniffing as she wiped at her nose. "Yeah, we're basically walking Halloween tragedies at this point."

The moment felt lighter, almost normal for a second. But then y/n's gaze drifted past Tory, drawn toward the noise near the entrance of the party. Her eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on a figure by the door—someone who didn't quite belong amidst the costumes and chaos.

He wasn't dressed up. No mask, no makeup, no ridiculous Halloween getup. In his hand he carried some sort of an envelope. It made him stand out immediately, but it was the familiar tousle of his hair made y/n's chest tighten.

Kwon Jae-Sung...

Her breath hitched, and her first instinct was relief since he'd finally shown up.. Her heart lifted as warmth spread through her chest, an unbidden smile tugging at her lips. For a moment, she forgot the earlier tension of the night, forgot the heaviness that had been weighing her down. He was here. That had to mean something, right?

But her happiness was short-lived.

Y/n's smile faltered as her eyes flicked to the shorter girl standing in front of him. She was stunning—dressed in a glittering Cleopatra costume, with perfect makeup and hair that seemed to glow under the neon party lights. The way she leaned toward him, her posture casual but confident, sent a warning bell ringing in the girl's head.

Her brow furrowed as she watched them talk, her gut twisting uncomfortably. The conversation between them looked... familiar. Too familiar. Kwon wasn't his usual stoic self. He was relaxed, almost soft, as he leaned down to hear what the girl was saying, his face close to hers.

And then it happened...

The boy tilted his head slightly, and the Cleopatra girl moved closer. y/n's eyes widened as she saw their lips meet. It wasn't a hesitant kiss or some accidental brush—it was intentional, lingering, and way too intimate for her to misinterpret.

The warmth that had blossomed in her chest moments ago turned ice-cold. Her stomach twisted violently, and for a moment, she felt like she couldn't breathe. The party around her blurred, the music and voices fading into an unrecognizable hum as her focus zeroed in on them.

He was kissing her.

Kwon Jae-Sung—the same Kwon who had trained with her, teased her, fought with her, kissed her, and somehow always seemed to be there—was kissing someone else. Here. At this party. In front of her.

The pain hit her like a freight train. It wasn't just hurt; it was betrayal, confusion, jealousy—all tangled together in a storm that threatened to overwhelm her. y/n's hands shook at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she stood frozen, unable to look away.

Without saying another word, y/n turned on her heel and stormed away, her movements sharp and purposeful. The crowd parted instinctively as she moved through, the tension radiating off her like a force field. She didn't say a single word, and she didn't look back.

Just like that, she was gone... all over again.

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