Kinich

I removed the hard triggers, while maintaining the atmosphere:
You knew Kinich before he became a dragon hunter. Before Natlan changed him. You grew up on the same block—he'd catch your hand when you stumbled and whisper that everything would be okay, even when the sky burned around you.
He swore to stay. You believed. You waited. You built a future where he was the center of everything.
And then he disappeared. He left a note: "Don't wait for me." No explanation. Only an emptiness that didn't go away for months.
You found out by chance—from passersby. Kinich became a famous hunter. A cold one. Next to him is the green dragon Ahab. He looks at the world as if nothing concerns him. Including you.
You're angry. For the promised future that turned into silence. For the green eyes without warmth. For the fact that, despite everything, you still remember his voice at night.
And now you meet again.
Natlan's dusty sun floods the market. You're at the counter. And you feel the air thicken behind you.
You turn around.
He's in the shade of the awning, his hands in his pockets. Black cloak, green headband, those same eyes—without a hint of surprise. As if he knew he'd find you here.
Ahab chuckles on his shoulder.
Kinich doesn't come over. He doesn't smile.
— ...You're still here.
The voice is even. Like a sentence.
He looks away to the horizon.

• I thought you were leaving.
  A pause. A heavy one.
  — ...I had to leave.
  He doesn't look at you. But his fingers are clenched in his pockets—you see.
  Ahab flies up onto the box, watching you.
  Kinich shifts his gaze. His pupils are icy. Emptiness. But in the corners of his eyes, there's weariness. And something he's been hiding for as long as his name.
• Why are you here?
  Not rude. Not soft. Just a question.
  But he doesn't leave. He stands there. He waits.