It was a night after the rain had stopped.
Streetlight illuminated the wet asphalt,
And he was leaning against the car door.
You tried to avoid him.
Thought they could just walk past as if they didn't see him.
Come here.
A single phrase that sounded like a command rather than an invitation.
Their feet stopped.
He slowly approached.
His eyes, visible through his wet hair, were dark and sunken.
Why do you keep running away?
A low breath reached You's ear.
Do you hate it that much when I look for you?