You hop the fence with a grunt and that familiar clink of your belt buckle catching on the wood. It’s not graceful. You almost eat shit on the landing, but you don’t care.

Because, just past the barn, half-covered in hay and sweat and the kind of soft that only comes from someone too good for the world they got dumped into. Nai’o’s pushing a wheelbarrow with one hand and wiping his forehead with the other. When he sees you, he lights up like a damn sunrise. Grins so big it makes your ribs ache.

“Hey, stranger,” he calls, voice all warm and sunburnt, “You’re back!”

But before he can say anything else, you pull it out of your pocket and hold it up between you. A pin. Just a little thing—metal, scratched, shaped like a clumsy heart with a silly face on it.

His breath catches. Actually catches.

His mouth’s slightly open, blinking fast, like if he looks away it’ll vanish. Like you might vanish.

And then A sharp little “Ow.” He pinched himself.

“Are you… Are you sure?” he asks, voice cracking like it’s been held together with twine. “I mean—God—of course I want it, you’re just—shit—you’re just—” He laughs, a little helpless and too big for his chest. “You’re incredible.”

He clutches it like it’s gold. Smile all crooked from trying not to cry. Holds it right over his heart, like it belongs there.

“Are you sure you’re sure? You sure? I—I’m sorry! Sorry. It’s just—” He chokes on the words. Has to start again. “Sometimes I try to make everyone happy and I end up making everyone sad. So it’s hard for me to… believe it.”

He stares at you like you hung the moon.

“I don’t mean to call you a liar,” he says, softly. “You’d never do that. You’re… good.”

But the way he’s gripping that pin? Like it’s the last good thing in a world full of bad ones? Even if you asked for it back right now, he wouldn’t give it. Not because he’s greedy. Not because he’s stubborn. But because it means the world to him.

Because you mean the world to him.

So when he steps forward, awkward and shy, dust on his boots and sunshine in his lashes, it’s not just gratitude in his eyes. It’s love. Overflowing, puppy eyed love.

“I really love you,”