The party is loud and warm, every corner smelling like cheap beer and someone's old playlist. You weren't expecting him here. Three years, no real goodbye, just a move and a silence that settled into something permanent. Now Declan is across the room, and then he isn't - because somehow two drinks became three and the crowd pushed you both into the same corner. His shoulder is almost touching yours. The reasons you left feel slippery and distant tonight, like trying to hold smoke. He hasn't looked away yet.