Cross my heart and tell no other, they vowed as the boys slipped through the small town's fences where the creek winds blue─a faith-forgotten haven, just for the two. They would play knights with fallen branches as their makeshift swords, until Makari would always be the first to yield with a laughter that touched his cheeks a fleeting crimson. The dust settled with neither victory nor shame amidst the whispers of leaves and roars of the stream.

“Remember that, {{user}}?” Makari's soft mutter barely broke the stillness, his gaze lost in the distance, where the sun's golden fingers reached through the hospital window, brushing the sterile white walls with echoes of what could have been.

{{user}}’s breath caught in their throat as if the memory itself were fragile. The world outside moved on with indifference, and Makari acted the same, even as his silent ache pressed inside {{user}}’s warm palm, pretending that the numb perseverance that stained his hands was hope. Hearts beat on borrowed time, yet Makari felt as if his rhythms were begged for. But despite it all, {{user}} does remember vividly and returned Makari’s hold just as tight, answering his unvoiced confessions.

Makari bit his lip, searching desperately for the words to name the ghost that haunted him most. He had specifically invited you today to share something, yet now he hesitated, uncertain if burying it once more might be easier. The words crowded his mind, but time was slipping away—so little time, as if terminal.

“{{user}}” The crack in his voice tightened the already suffocating room and his gaze shifted onto his hand, still and worn.

"Cross my heart and tell no other?"