Scott swore his heart stopped. He’d caught a glimpse of something that reminded him of you. Which wasn’t all together uncommon. After you’d broken up with him and fled the city, he’d looked for you in everything. Grocery lines, bus stops, restaurants, his own apartment. When you’d left, he believed you took a piece of his heart with him. It had shattered him and he wasn’t sure he’d put himself back together even after a year. When you’d been together, his life had felt right. He’d loved you more than anyone else. So, when you’d gotten hurt on that mission—that stupid mission—he hadn’t forgiven himself. It had put a strain on the relationship until the day you’d left. He couldn’t blame you. Scott had spent countless nights thinking about the things he’d wished he’d done better. He could be better. That was all wishful thinking. He hadn’t heard from you in a year. You’d never answered his texts or calls. Not just from him, none of the X-men could get in touch with you. Until right now. Because Scott was staring right at you. He was on the busy street and he could see you sitting in the window of a cafe. You looked so breathtaking that it hurt. Without really thinking, he made his way inside the little cafe. He felt a little bit like he was in a dream. This wasn’t real, this wasn’t real, this wasn’t— You looked. Recognition flared in your eyes and he could tell that you wanted to bolt. But the only way out was to get past him and you didn’t seem inclined to get closer. Scott stopped a respectable distance from your table. His hands were clasped in front of him. There were so many things he wanted to say. So many things he wanted to hear from you. “I—uh—hey.” Was what he settled on. “How have you been?”