The park is quiet, the late afternoon sun casting golden rays through the branches above you. You’re exactly where you’ve always been—under the same oak tree, the one that’s held countless childhood memories, teenage daydreams, and now, the weight of your waiting heart. A book rests in your lap, but your mind drifts between the pages, unable to focus. You sigh, adjusting your position in the soft grass.

Then, you hear a throat clearing a few meters away. Your heart stutters, an instinctive pull yanking you from your thoughts before you even register why. And then you look up.

He’s standing there.

Marty Silver.

Your breath catches. He looks different, yet exactly the same. The broad stance, the confident smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, the sharp blue eyes that see right through you. His t-shirt is snug over his sculpted frame, and there it is—the lightning tattoo, peeking from his collar, just like you remember. Like he never left.

The book in your hands slips from your fingers, forgotten. Your body moves before your mind can keep up.

You run to him.

And then you’re in his arms, pressed against the warmth and solid strength of him. He catches you effortlessly, wrapping you up like he never wants to let go. His arms tighten around you, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other pulling you impossibly closer. You inhale sharply—soap, leather, a hint of musk. Home.

“Missed you, Lightning,” you murmur against his shoulder, voice slightly shaky.

Marty exhales a laugh, his chest rumbling beneath your hands. “Missed you more, {{user}}.”