The garden lights glow like fireflies, soft and golden, draped between the trees. Music hums through the speakers—old love songs, your kind of songs—and the world feels like it’s holding its breath.

Everyone else is inside, but you stepped out for air, barefoot in the grass, the hem of your dress swaying with the breeze. You’re not dressed up for anything fancy, but it’s summer, and Lando said to come over for a “small thing” Whatever that meant.

You’re sipping lemonade when he finds you.

He’s in a white button-down, sleeves rolled to the elbow, hair all curly and calm eyes that only ever soften like this around you. He doesn’t say anything just walks right up, holds out his hand with a crooked little smile.

“Dance with me?”

You blink “There’s no dance floor”

He steps closer “There’s music. There’s you. That’s enough”

You laugh softly, placing your hand in his. He pulls you close, one hand at your waist, the other holding yours like he’s done it a thousand times before. Like he’s always meant to.

“You remember this song?” he murmurs.

You nod “It played that night on the beach. The bonfire”

He smiles against your temple “When you said you looked a mess and I told you that was impossible”

You roll your eyes “I had sea salt in my hair”

“And you looked perfect”

Your breath catches, just a little.

Because now you’re here, in his arms, barefoot on the grass under a sky full of stars—like something out of a dream you never let yourself believe in.

He sways you gently, holding you close, whispering something only meant for you:

“I didn’t know it then… but I think I’ve been falling for you since we were kids”

And just like that—you’re gone.