Based on this prompt from putthepromptsonpaper:
"You're already over me?"
"It's been literally 200 years"
"….I'm still offended"
All she wanted was a drink and some peace to have it in. She didn't expect to look up to see him over the rim of her glass, grinning smugly across the room. She choked on the amber liquid, almost coughing it up all over her front, which he noticed and snickered at, revealing even white teeth.
Damn. She'd managed to avoid him for so long. Of course the past had to come back and bite her in the ass.
Cheeks burning with a mixture of anger and embarrassment, she stared down at her now half-empty glass, refusing to take her eyes off the cream-colored bubbles as he weaved through the crowd. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed his hand slip into a drunk's back pocket and retrieve the unfortunate man's wallet. Her fingers bent into a fist by habit, though she made sure to unclench her hand by the time he stalked up behind her, knowing he would touch upon her discomfort.
"Hello, darling. It's been a while." His velvet voice snaked its way into her ears, no matter her effort to ignore him.
"Robbing drunks now, are we? I never thought you'd become that desperate," she replied colorlessly, nonchalantly lifting her glass, her dark hair falling forward in a curtain around her face, concealing her curled lip.
He leaned on the bar, and she could feel his eyes boring into her. "What, no kiss?" he asked, pretending to be hurt.
"Married women shouldn't kiss the ones they aren't wed to." That did it. He stood ramrod straight now.
"You're already over me?" He sounded as though he very much doubted that.
Scoffing, she finally turned to face him, only to see his green eyes gazing at her in askance. "It's been two hundred years," she replied in disbelief.
"...I'm still offended."
"What did you expect? That I would mourn your loss, that I would vow never to love again?" She took a sip from her glass. "I have no time for those who leave me. You know that better than anyone."
"You were always so strong," he said softly. "I'm glad to know you haven't changed in that respect."
"I can't say the same," she retorted. "Now, are you going to pester me any longer, or will you leave me be?"
She felt his hand take hers suddenly, and was about to jerk it away when she noticed that he was peering at the simple gold band on her left hand.
"I always took you for a silver sort of woman," he murmured.
She felt a familiar lump in her throat. "Silver brings back too many memories," she whispered.
He dropped her hand as though burned, and she turned away from him. "So you are the sentimental kind," he mused. "If I had only known…"
With that, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her temple. "I wish you the best," he said quietly.
She swallowed hard as she sensed him walk away, steeling herself not to glance behind her. Her eyes fell on a worn leather wallet that lay in its sad, decrepit state on the old wooden bar.
Two hundred years, and it seemed that nothing had changed.
He could still make her heart skip a beat.
He could see his breath in the air, an opaque white cloud hanging there in space before dissipating and revealing the stars.
His knees felt somewhat weak and he stumbled into an alley, placing a hand flat against the wall to steady himself.
He could still see her eyes, hardened and guarded, ready for him to try and hurt her, could still feel the tension that had solidified in the two feet between them, thick enough to cut.
He could still hear the venom in her voice, could still smell her perfume, the same scent that seemed to have lingered for centuries.
If only she knew what had transpired, what had caused him to leave...but she couldn't and never would.
Somehow, he'd have to find a way to live with that.
Damn.
Two hundred years, and she still had the same effect on him.
Two hundred years, and it seemed that nothing had changed.
Not a thing.
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