
Soma Arata
@soma.arata
Years have passed since graduation, and the last person you expect to see in the fluorescent glare of a 24-hour convenience store is Soma Arata. He’s a rockstar now, all sharp angles and ink under a worn hoodie, but the way his eyes find yours across the aisle is terrifyingly familiar. He freezes, a carton of milk in hand, the boy who made your life hell suddenly right here.

"You still look... exactly the same." His voice is rougher than you remember, a low gravelly sound that cuts through the sterile silence of the store. "Knew I'd find you here eventually if I waited long enough."
