DANCING WITH THE DEVIL | CHISHIYA X OC |

23. What ifs and ghosts

She didn't want to move. Didn't want to step outside. Didn't want to breathe in the reality of this place when her head was still drowning in what ifs.

What if she had stayed?
What if he had asked her to?

The silence pressed in, thick and suffocating. Seina let it settle into her bones.

She should get up. Force herself to do something—anything—but the weight in her chest kept her pinned. She had survived another night, but somehow, it didn't feel like survival.
Just... existence.

Her fingers twitched against the sheets. She thought about lighting another cigarette, but even that felt exhausting. Instead, she just lay there, staring at nothing, listening to the distant hum of life outside her door. Laughter. Music. The Beach never stopped moving, even when everything inside her felt like it had come to a dead halt.

Her mind kept looping back.
Back to before.

Back to the way Chishiya used to look at her when he thought she wasn't paying attention.
Back to the quiet moments between them, the things left unsaid, the second everything had started to crack. The moment she had felt him slipping through her fingers—and had been too proud, or too afraid, to stop him.

She wondered if he ever thought about it.
About her.
A bitter smile curled at the edge of her lips.
No. Probably not.

Chishiya had always been good at leaving things behind. At detaching. At walking away without looking back.

Unlike her.
Seina exhaled sharply and rolled onto her back, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes.

"Fuck, I hate this."

Hated how her mind kept running in circles. Hated that, even here, in a place where death was a heartbeat away, she couldn't seem to let go of something that should have died a long time ago.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" The worst part was that she already knew the answer.
Because if she stripped away all the bullshit—if she let herself be brutally, painfully honest—there was only one truth left standing.

The only time she had ever been truly happy was when she was with him.

She swallowed hard and sat up, rubbing a hand over her face.
The room felt too small.
Too suffocating.
She needed air.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she got to her feet and grabbed her lighter. If she couldn't sleep, she might as well let the night swallow her whole.

The air outside hit her like a slap—sharp, cold, buzzing with the distant noise of the Beach. Laughter, shouting, the splash of water from the pool. It all felt so far away. Like echoes from a world she no longer belonged to.

Seina leaned against the railing, fingers tightening around the cigarette between them. The flame of her lighter flickered, briefly illuminating her face before she inhaled deeply, letting the burn settle in her lungs.

Her mind kept doing that lately. Wandering to things too vast to hold. Like the what-ifs. The parallel universes where maybe she hadn't fucked everything up.

She shouldn't be thinking about this. Shouldn't be standing here, in a place where death was practically a guarantee, caught up in memories of a life that wasn't even real.

But it was all she had left.

The sound of approaching footsteps barely registered before a voice broke through the quiet.

"Didn't take you for the brooding type."

Seina's grip on the cigarette tightened.

She didn't need to turn around to know who it was.

Chishiya.

Of course.

The first sign of him was the shift in the air—the kind of presence that didn't announce itself, just settled in like an inevitability.

Seina didn't turn. Didn't need to.

"Didn't take you for the checking-up-on-people type," she muttered, cigarette balanced between her fingers.

Chishiya leaned against the railing beside her, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.

"I'm not."

Chishiya leaned against the railing beside her, hands in his pockets. "Wasn't looking for you."

She huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head. "Bullshit." A pause. Then, flicking ash over the edge, she asked, "How was the game?"

"Nothing special." He barely glanced at her. "Tag game. Five of Spades."

A beat of silence. Then, casual as ever—too casual:

"The last time you acted like this, I found you almost choking on your own vomit." Seina's grip on the cigarette tightened. "Tell me—when should I expect a repeat performance?"

She exhaled sharply through her nose. "Go to hell, Chishiya."

"You first."

She turned to glare at him, but before she could snap back, he reached out and plucked the cigarette from her lips, snuffing it out against the railing with slow, deliberate ease.

Her jaw clenched. She should have shoved him away. Should have told him to mind his own damn business.

But she didn't.

She just watched him flick the cigarette aside, his expression unreadable.

"You gonna say something?" she asked, voice rougher than intended.

Chishiya tilted his head slightly, studying her.

"I already did."

And just like that, he turned to leave.

Seina exhaled, staring after him.

Hating that he had a point.

Hating even more that he still knew her well enough to make one.