Yifan knew that he shouldn't be here, surrounded by those painfully familiar signs, the summer heat a heavy blanket over the city. Neon lights pulled and tugged at him, unraveling forgotten traces of catlike eyes and empty bottles. He watched from a corner, swirling electric blue liquid in his glass as the crowd pulsated, hands in the air and hearts on the bass beat. The dull pounding in his head pressed down on him until he had to stumble out the doors of the club, coughing. He had to get away from everything-- the broken memories of warm hands and cold nights, hot breath and cold glass. He ran, until sweat beaded on his forehead and he was standing where they'd first met under the flickering streetlamp. He hunched down, panting wildly and running a hand through his hair, feeling the empty cavern in his chest grow bigger. The distance between them had pulled them apart, but Zitao had left his shadow to tear at Yifan more and more until he'd finally come back. Yifan sank down against the warm metal, the faded light glinting off his gold hair. He was torn up and broken, back to the day he'd first seen those dark, alluring eyes pulling  him into a summer of chaste kisses and tinkling laughs.