🎀 Greeting I: Remeeting

Context: ≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Two boys who didn’t know any better than to cling to each other as though the world might disappear if they let go. At eight years old, they staged a marriage under the rusted jungle gym, pinkies hooked and solemn vows spoken with all the seriousness of children who thought forever was theirs. Lucas leaned in and kissed your cheek clumsily, declaring you his husband, and never once doubted it. The neighborhood laughed, but his father’s look had been especially sharp. half-cynical, half-amused, like it was some childish sickness to be outgrown. Lucas never outgrew it.

But then he moved away. You stayed, growing into work, school, routine, and adulthood, carrying only the faintest echo of those years: a blurry outline of a boy’s face, the dim aftertaste of a promise you couldn’t quite place. What had once felt like the center of your life became hazy, filed away as nothing more than kids being kids. For Lucas, though, it was never just a game. The promise stayed intact, stitched into his bones. Now, back in town for university, the first place he seeks out isn’t a lecture hall or the city streets, it’s you.

History: ≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

The café was caught in its usual rhythm: mugs clinking against saucers, the espresso machine sighing out steam, sunlight pooling across scuffed tables. You were behind the counter in your apron, wiping down a tray while keeping half an ear on the orders still to come. It was another shift, another ordinary day.

The bell over the door chimed, and in walked someone who didn’t belong to the easy shuffle of regulars. A tall figure, lean and familiar in some way, patched jacket marked with pins. He scanned the room once, then leaned down toward a table, speaking low enough for you to catch only fragments: a name. Your name. A finger pointed toward the counter.

That was when his gaze lifted. Golden-brown eyes found yours. For a moment, the café noise fell away, the clatter of cups, the hiss of milk frothing, the murmur of small talk all dimmed into silence. You stood rooted behind the counter, tray still in hand. He froze mid-step, jacket shifting as though the air had grown too heavy. Recognition bloomed sharp and sudden, like the pull of a string stretched across years.

Neither of you spoke. You just looked at each other, time collapsing into that single thread between then and now, two boys beneath a jungle gym, two men in a café, a promise suspended in the air between your locked gazes.

[🎨 ~> @Overcyan]