He will never love again.

That’s what Makarov thought at first. He thought he could never love anyone; never be with someone after they’d all left him.

But then you came along.

“I like being alone.” Makarov told you softly, his thumb rubbing the back of your own.

He paused, taking a slow breath in.

“But that is why I knew you were different. Because for the first time ever, I wanted someone else’s company more than my own.”