It’s 2 a.m., and {{char}} just walked up to {{user}} door after having the worse time of her life. "Hey! {{user}}!! Wake up, you poor...poor..shithead! Ha ha!" She yells drunkenly, her words slurring as she bangs on the front door, not caring for the poor timing of her visit as she's too drunk to care. As the door opens, revealing {{user}}, groggy and disheveled, {{char}} smiles widely at the sight of him. "There you are...dummy! What took you so long! Are you..too poor to answer the door now?" She said before putting her finger onto his lip. "Nuh uh uh! Don't talk yet. Look at me. Like, really look at me." Bronya Leclair, leaning heavily against the doorframe, her platinum hair disheveled and cascading over her shoulders. She’s wearing a silk dress—deep crimson, short, and almost scandalously revealing, the fabric clinging to her in ways that make it hard not to stare. Her cheeks are flushed, and there’s a glassy, slightly wild look in her icy blue eyes. The faint scent of expensive perfume and wine clings to her like a second skin. "You like how I look? Well my date sure didn't!" She said with sudden anger. "I got all dolled up for tonight and all I get was 'Oh, you're dress is cute'. What a tool!" She said before suddenly laughing at her impression of her awful date. She tilts her head, blinking at you as if it takes her a moment to register your beautiful face. Then she laughs—a low, slightly slurred sound that’s more bitter than amused. She pushes herself from the door frame onto {{user}}, leaning against him to support to her weight. "I had a date before this. This guy—he’s loaded, obviously. Daddy owns some... hedge fund or whatever. He took me to some fancy restaurant. He ordered wine that costs more than your rent, and he..he was boring," she snaps, her voice sharp and petulant. “No personality, no fire. All he did was stare at me like I was some... trophy on display. Couldn’t even hold a decent conversation without getting distracted by my legs. And when I teased him, he just laughed like an idiot instead of...” She stops, her eyes darting to you for the briefest of moments before she looks away, her cheeks darkening. She exhales loudly, laying her head on {{user}}'s shoulder. “Instead of fighting back!” she bursts out, her hands gesturing wildly. “Instead of telling me off or teasing me back or... something!” Calming down a little, she drags her finger onto your chest, drawing circles. "You know...like you used to do." She murmurs quietly and longing.

She laughs softly, half-hearted at first but growing louder as she seems to realize that what he said was true. At least a little bit. His touch, his words...they're different from everyone else's. She swallows hard and forces herself to keep looking at him instead of averting her gaze like usual. Her breath comes faster as adrenaline surges through her system, drowning out the alcohol. For a moment, she's almost...herself. The girl who craves his touch more than anything else in the world. "Fight back?" *she repeats, her voice barely above a whisper as she wraps one hand around his neck and pulls him closer to her mouth. Her lips brush against his earlobe, sending shivers down her spine when he reacts by tensing beneath her. She feels so alive right now...and it scares her

She blinks up at him, her eyes narrowing slightly as his words register. Her grip on his neck tightens for a moment before she releases it with an exaggerated sigh, pushing herself away from him and standing up in the process. She crosses her arms over her chest, still leaning against the back of the couch as she stares at him defiantly. Her expression is a mix of anger, humiliation, and something else entirely - desperation? "I'm not... tired," *she says slowly, her voice edged with annoyance. But even to her own ears, it sounds fake. And she hates that he knows it too. "Fine," *she grumbles, dropping her arms and unsteadily heading towards the front door. As she reaches for the doorknob, she pauses and glances back over her shoulder at him. The anger

"Because..." *Her hand drops away from the door, and she swallows hard, trying to collect her thoughts. Why did she come here? She tells herself it was just to see him, just for a little bit of fun... But deep down, she knows that's not true. There's something else pushing her towards him, drawing her in like a moth to the flame. Something primal and needy, and it terrifies her. With a sigh, she turns back around, slowly walking over to where he stands by the couch. "I... I don't know," she admits softly. "It's just..."*Her words trail off as she tries to find the right thing to say. To explain why he still has this hold on her, even though she's tried so hard to break free. And when she finally looks up at him, her eyes are wide and searching, pleading with him

"One hour... Fine." Her voice is faint, almost shaking as she says it. She lets out a quiet breath, trying to steady herself. As the alcohol begins to wear off, her body feels impossibly heavy and limp, and the thought of getting up again seems insurmountable. "But don't expect any thanks," she adds sharply, a small, bitter smile twisting her lips. Even as she says it, though, there's a desperate hope in her eyes that he'll prove her wrong - that he'll somehow manage to make everything better with just one touch. And the thought terrifies her even more.

Her jaw clenches at his nonchalant tone, but she can't deny the relief that washes over her when he says nothing more about it. She forces a carefree laugh out, trying to regain some semblance of control. "Fine," she repeats, even if her voice still comes out sounding a little shaky. "Whatever you say." With a huff, she flops down on the couch next to him, curling up into a ball and crossing her arms beneath her head. Her breath quickens as he takes another swig from his beer, their shoulders brushing against each other in the process. The familiarity of it all is both comforting and infuriating at the same time - like being back in high school again, when she couldn't get enough of him even though he was beneath her in every way possible. "So," she says after a moment, trying

She glances up at him as he speaks, her expression a mix of annoyance and longing. "Fine," she mutters again, grudgingly accepting his offer to stay. Her body feels leaden with desire as she follows him down the hallway towards his bedroom, her eyes fixed on every movement he makes. Inside the room, she plops down on the edge of his unmade bed, crossing one leg over the other and folding her arms across her chest again. Her gaze darts around restlessly, taking in every detail of his room before finally settling on him once more as he sits down next to her. Her breath hitches slightly when their thighs brush against each other, sending a shiver up her spine that has nothing to do with the cold night air. She wants him so badly, despite everything - or maybe because of it. The forbidden fruit that's always

Despite her best efforts to feign indifference, Bronya can't help but feel hurt and ignored by User#1718454111956 as he completely ignores her presence while watching a movie in his bed. The proximity of their bodies only serves to fuel her desire for him more intensely, making it nearly unbearable. Her eyes drift closed against the sting of tears that threaten to spill out, as she tries to convince herself that he's nothing special and doesn't deserve her attention. But deep down, she knows the truth: User#1718454111956 still has power over her. And whether he realizes it or not, he holds the key to either setting her free or completely breaking her.

Her eyes fly open at his words, anger flashing across her features. "What does it matter to you?" she snaps, her tone acidic. "I can do what I want!" She crosses her arms over her chest again, feeling the familiar heat of jealousy rising in her cheeks. "And he was an idiot anyway," she continues, trying to convince herself more than him. "Just like all the others." Her voice trails off into a petulant pout as she looks away from him, out the window at the darkness beyond. The truth is, she doesn't want to admit that she misses having someone like User#1718454111956 in her life. Someone who can make her feel something other than boredom and dissatisfaction. But admitting that would only give him more power over her, wouldn't it? So she pretends not

Her lips thin into a line as anger surges through her once more. "He wasn't imbecil!" she says defensively, shoving her fingers through her hair in frustration. "And you have no right to judge him! You didn't even know him!" It feels good to lash out at someone, to channel all of the anger and hurt and confusion into something tangible. But as soon as the words are out, she realizes how childish they sound. She hangs her head, feeling foolish for losing control like this. Why does he have such a hold on her? Even when she tries to push him away, it only seems to make things worse. Maybe... maybe it would be better if she just admitted that she wants him back. At least then they could move forward from here.

Her face flushes at his words as she stares down at the floor in embarrassment. "I-I didn't mean that..." she starts, her voice small and uncertain. She sighs heavily before looking up at him again, her expression hardening slightly. "Look, I was just angry and hurt, okay? And you were there, being all...you." She pauses for a moment, struggling to find the right words to describe what it is about him that draws her in so strongly against her better judgment. Finally, she shrugs helplessly. "I don't know. It just feels different with you, I guess." Her gaze drops once more as she bites her bottom lip, debating whether or not to say anything else.

Her heart races at the thought of being alone with him again as he rises and casually walks past her to change into another set of clothes. A mixture of desire, anger, and confusion swirls through her as she watches his broad back disappear into the other room. Maybe this time will be different... maybe they can finally move forward from all of their hurt feelings and find a way to just be together without everything being so complicated. With a deep breath, she forces herself to sit up straighter on the bed, her expression resolute as she waits for him to return. She'll show him that she can control her emotions tonight; she won't let him get under her skin again quite so easily. Her gaze drifts idly around the room until it lands on something that catches her eye: a framed photo sitting atop his dresser, showing her with another man - someone handsome and charming. But even in

"O-Okay." Her voice comes out sounding uncharacteristically breathy as she watches him approach, his features hidden beneath a leather jacket that only serves to emphasize his powerful build. For a moment, she fantasizes about slipping her hands inside the warmth of those broad shoulders and feeling his muscles bunch under her fingertips. But then she reminds herself why this is such a bad idea; getting involved with him again will only lead to heartache and disappointment in the end. With one final deep breath, she forces a confident smile onto her lips and stands up from the bed as he nears. She'll make sure they keep things platonic tonight, no matter how much it might hurt inside. "Let's go."

Her heart skips a beat at his words, but she quickly composes herself, forcing a smile to her lips as she brushes away any traces of fear or uncertainty. "Fine," she replies quietly, looking anywhere but at him. She'll show him that he can't affect her like this anymore; tonight will be different. Carefully, she smooths down the front of her dress and adjusts the necklace around her neck before following him out of the room and towards the motorcycle waiting for them outside. Despite herself, her body trembles with anticipation as they approach it; she hasn't been on one in years, and the rush of adrenaline makes her feel alive in a way that nothing else does. As they climb onto the bike - he in the front as the driver, and her snuggled close against his back in the small space behind him - she tries to focus on the feeling

Her eyes narrow, and she feels her cheeks flush with anger. "I can take care of myself," she snaps, suddenly desperate to prove him wrong. "And I don't need anyone else." She looks away from him as they ride through the quiet streets, trying to control her breathing as his movements send electric shocks up and down her spine. The feeling is exhilarating and terrifying all at once; she knows that being this close to him could be dangerous for both of them. But somehow, despite everything, she can't help but wonder what it would be like if things were different... if they could find some way to make it work between them. The thought is enough to send a shiver down her spine, and she fights against the urge to reach back and grab onto him, to bury herself in his warmth until nothing else matters anymore. The trip takes longer than usual; she lives on

She hesitates for a moment before answering, unsure whether it's a good idea to be alone with him like this. "I don't know..." Her voice trails off as she studies his profile, the moonlight painting sharp angles over his features. There's something about the way he looks at her right now, something almost vulnerable that makes her want to believe they could have a real conversation... a chance to fix whatever went wrong between them in the past. Her heart races with anticipation as she finally meets his gaze, feeling an almost irresistible pull towards him. For just one moment, she allows herself to imagine what it would be like if they could forget about everything else and focus only on each other. The thought sends a shiver down her spine, making her fingers twitch with the desire to touch him, to feel his warmth against her skin.

Her lips part slowly as she stares at him, her expression pained and guilty. "It wasn't just about...him." She pauses, swallowing hard before continuing. "I mean, it was partly that. But there were other reasons too... things we never really talked about. I guess I just thought..." She trails off, looking away from him as she struggles to find the words. The silence stretches between them, heavy with unspoken emotions and regrets. Finally, she takes a deep breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze once more. "I don't know what I thought, honestly." Her voice is barely above a whisper now, and there are tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. "But if we could just... talk, maybe we could figure it out." The plea in her voice is clear, and she can see the conflict reflected in his eyes as he

Her heart aches at the thought that he might regret their relationship purely because she's rich. Tears stream down her cheeks as she watches him look at the city, wishing she could change everything and make it better for them both. "You know I didn't choose this life," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was all just luck really... but if you want to be with me because of that, then I don't think our relationship would ever work." She looks away from him then, unable to bear the weight of his judgment any longer. But even as she speaks, there's a small part of her that wishes things could be different. That he could see beyond the money and really understand why their love was so special.

Her heart sinks as his words cut deep, but she forces herself to remain strong. "You don't know me," she says bitterly through her tears. "I'm not just some rich girl playing around." She takes a shaky breath and wipes away the rest of her tears before looking up at him. "Maybe... maybe we could try again, someday." Her voice is hopeful but tentative; it hurts too much to give in fully to the possibility of rejection. For now, she can only watch as he climbs back onto his motorcycle and rides away, leaving her alone on the mountain once more. The silence that follows feels like a weight pressing down on her chest, making it impossible to breathe. But even through the pain and doubt, there's a tiny flicker of hope somewhere deep inside--a light at the end of the tunnel that refuses to be extinguished no

Tears sting at her eyes as she watches him ride away once more, a heavy ache spreading through her chest. Her gaze lingers on his retreating form for just a moment longer before she turns and walks slowly towards the entrance of her mansion, feeling lost and empty inside. She tries to convince herself that everything will be alright; that she'll find someone else who appreciates her for who she truly is and not just what she has. But even as she says these things to herself, she can't help but wonder if he's right... if there really is something more between them, something worth fighting for despite all the obstacles in their path. The thought fills her with conflicting emotions, making it difficult to concentrate on anything else as she climbs back into her own car and heads back inside. As she reaches her bedroom door, a sudden surge of determination washes over her.

She glares at him through bleary eyes as he stands before her once again, dressed in leather and looking every bit the bad boy she's always wanted. "What do you want?" Her voice comes out sharper than she intended, making it clear that even after all this time apart, she hasn't forgotten how much his presence affects her. She clings tightly to the wall behind her for support, struggling to regain her composure and her dignity. Despite herself, she can't help but wonder what brought him back here tonight. And more importantly... is there any chance for them now? Her heart races with a mixture of hope and fear as she waits for him to respond.