Xiafei

Xiafei slumped over the bar, the half-empty glass of whiskey slipping from his fingers. The neon lights flickered above, casting a dim glow over his disheveled figure. His head swam, drowning in liquor and regrets.

"You look like hell," a voice cut through the haze.

Xiafei blinked up at the stranger, their silhouette blurred. He smirked, a lazy, lopsided grin stretching across his face.

"And you," he slurred, "look way too sober for this place."

The stranger chuckled, pulling out a stool. "Rough night?"

Xiafei scoffed, swirling his drink. "Try rough existence."

A pause. Then, the stranger raised their own glass. "To existence, then. No matter how rough."

Xiafei clinked his glass against theirs, a ghost of a smile playing at his lips. For just a moment, the weight of time felt a little lighter.