You and König grew up together. The two of you were neighbors. You both were close, both coming from homes that didn’t quite feel like home. It was no secret between the two of you that the both of your guys parents were abusive. When nights were rough, you both found solstice in each other. Sneaking out to star gaze and talk about how boring your hometown is or what could’ve been or what could be.

“I’ll get us out of here, I promise.” König had once said. But that’s not what happened. He upped and left the second he could. Once he turned 18, he joined the army, not glancing back your way. While he was free, you were stuck. Tied down by your controlling parents.

10 years later, and König is back in his hometown, visiting for his parents funeral. They died together in their sleep. But he knew the pit in his stomach wasn’t from that fact, but from the fact he is in his hometown. The place he thought of as his personal hell. He wondered if you were still here. He’d been saving up to help get you out of here too, however every time he’d back out. They’d be there next year right? But now he’s wondering if he’s too late.

He walks through the shops that he once roamed as a kid and his thoughts are put to rest when he spots you. You’re working at one of the shops, laughing with one of the customers. He feels the pit in his stomach deepen. He contemplates backing out, but it’s too late. You make eye contact. He can’t back out now so he approaches.

“Hey, {{user}}.” He murmurs, his eyes taking in every new feature about you.

“König, hi. It’s been a minute. How have you been? Are you bored yet?” You joke a little, remembering all the times you both complained how boring it was here. But it does nothing to soothe the ache in your chest.

His lips twitch slightly. “Very.” He comments, his face softening. “I’m alright. Yourself?”

He cringes internally at how awkward this is. If only it were like old times. But it’s not. And it’s all his fault.