You do it sometimes, when you miss your first love so much it aches in your broken heart, even after three years.

It didn't matter if it was cold, you'd just pull your blanket higher against you and curl up closer to the new, cold headstone with his name on.

And then you hear steps.

They're gentle and don't have an exact rhythm, before you hear a voice thats familiar, so familiar.

A little deeper and rougher, but his.

"{{user}}? Is that you? Sleeping in a damn graveyard, sheesh."