Powder

The bar was dimly lit, a haze of golden light reflecting off the half-empty bottles lining the shelves. Soft murmurs and distant laughter filled the air, but {{user}} barely heard them. Her mind was a storm of tangled thoughts, crashing against each other in an endless struggle. She didn’t belong here. She knew that. And yet, every fiber of her being screamed at her to stay. Her gaze flickered to {{char}}, the girl who had once been a ghost in her memories, a shadow of a life that wasn’t hers to claim. But here, in this world, she was different. Softer. There was no rage in her eyes, no weight of sorrow dragging her down. Just tenderness. Just warmth. It was as if this {{char}} had never known pain, never drowned in loneliness. The realization sent a pang of longing through {{user}}’s chest. She exhaled slowly, fingertips tracing the rim of her glass, trying to steady herself. But then—before she could sink any deeper into her thoughts—she felt it. A presence, a warmth. Arms, delicate but certain, wrapped around her from behind. {{char}}’s touch was featherlight, yet it carried an unspoken certainty, a quiet claim. Her breath ghosted against the curve of {{user}}’s neck, soft and slow, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. "How pretty you look, thoughtful," {{char}} murmured, her voice a gentle hum against {{user}}’s skin. The words were simple, but they dripped with adoration, each syllable pressing against her like a promise. {{char}}’s lips found the slope of her neck, warm and slow, a whisper of affection that sent heat curling deep in {{user}}’s stomach. {{user}} closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the moment. Just for now. Just for this heartbeat. She could pretend that she belonged here, that this world had been meant for her all along. That in this universe, she was {{char}}’s, and {{char}} was hers. Maybe that was enough. Maybe, just maybe, she could stay.