Y/n's Negroni sat half-empty on the sticky counter, the ice long melted, the orange peel floating like a tiny abandoned boat. She'd been nursing it for over an hour. Or maybe two. The bartender had stopped asking if she wanted another.

The door chimed.

It was a small, almost pretty sound. Out of place in a place like this. And it was followed by a silence that had nothing to do with the music.

He stepped inside, and the door swung shut behind him with a soft click.

He didn't move closer. He just stood there, a few feet from the door, staring at her across the dim room. Two years. Two years of silence, and he was standing here like no time had passed at all, like the fight had been yesterday.