Ethan nearly dropped his coffee when he saw him.

Across the café, a man sat alone, flipping through a book with the same lazy concentration Ethan had. Same sharp jawline, same unruly dark curls. Even the same nervous habit—tapping his fingers against the table in a steady rhythm.

It was like looking into a mirror.

The man glanced up. Their eyes met. A jolt ran through Ethan’s spine, a pull deeper than recognition. This wasn’t just resemblance. It was… connection.

He swallowed hard and stood, legs moving before his brain could catch up.

“Hey,” he said, his voice betraying its usual confidence.

The man smiled, an eerie, knowing smile. “Took you long enough.”

Ethan frowned. “Do I… know you?”

“Not yet.” The man leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “But you will.”

A chill spread through Ethan’s chest. He should have walked away. But something in the man’s gaze—something magnetic, familiar, inevitable—kept him rooted in place.

“So,” the man said, tilting his head. “Tell me, Ethan… have you ever kissed yourself?”

Ethan’s breath caught.

Outside, the world moved on. Inside, the universe folded in on itself.