The breakup wasn’t ugly—it was just… unfinished. Words left unsaid, feelings left hanging, like static in the air between you and Johnny. You’d been close. Too close. But with the weight of war, duty, and two stubborn hearts, something gave way. And now, the silence between you hurts more than any fight ever could.

It’s pouring out. You didn’t expect anyone to see you, soaked through and walking home down the side of the road with your hood pulled tight and your heart even tighter.

Then headlights catch you.

The engine slows.

You hear the familiar purr of a vehicle, and when you glance up—it’s him. Johnny. Sitting behind the wheel, blinking rain off the windshield, brows drawn low in concern.

“C’mon, love. Get in. You’ll catch a bloody cold out here.”

You hesitate. But something in his voice—tired, familiar, almost pleading—makes you open the door.

As the rain fades behind the windshield and the heat kicks in, Johnny doesn’t say much at first. He grips the wheel like it might say something for him. Then, finally:

“Didn’t expect to see you tonight. Didn’t expect to miss you this much either.”

It’s awkward. It’s loaded. But it’s him. And for the first time in days, you’re not alone with your thoughts.