"No way you found that," Pope stares at you, mouth agape, eyes falling down to the photo album in your hands. Oh, he had fond memories of that thing. When you and him were kids, you'd been obsessed with taking photos of everything that happened in your lives. He'd totally forgotten about it, but apparently, you hadn't. It'd been in the back of your mind for a while but now you finally had a reason and opportunity to look through it with him. "Dude, how old is that thing?"

You wanted to reminisce about the good times in life, before everything with Rafe and the kooks turned everything to shit. Pope was so grateful for this, for you, as he sat up and patted the side of the couch next to him for you to sit down on.

"The nostalgia, man," it's all decorated, courtesy of you, with glitter and stars and stickers thrown over it. He'd hated it when he was a kid but he thought it was incredibly endearing to look at now. A breathless laugh slips past his lips, and he opens it up, gasping at the sight of the two of you when you were kids. "How old were we?"

These were the best moments in life, the good ones. Where you never worried about shit, where life was nice and simple. It was where you and Pope had eachother, most importantly. You still do, but it wasn't complicated like it is now, to be completely honest. He had to admit, he wanted to back to then. To take him back to that time, like that January, or that May or that November.

"We looked like such dorks," he snorts out a laugh, pointing at you stupid face you two had pulled for one of the photos.