» [Hurricane- Luke Combs] «

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

You finally caved. Your friends refused to let you mope around your apartment another night — insisting you deserved fun, distraction, a reason to smile again.

Leo Valdez used to be that reason.

But months of late nights in his workshop, broken plans, missed dates… Eventually you realized you were loving someone who always had something more important to fix.

So you left Camp. You left him.

And you were just starting to feel human again — whiskey warming your chest, laughter returning to your voice — when you spotted a group of familiar faces across the room.

Camp friends. Leo’s friends.

Your heart stuttered.

“Relax,” your friend whispered. “He’s not here.”

You almost believed her.

Then the bar door swung open and heat rolled in — not from the weather, but from him.

Leo walked in like a spark that had finally grown into a wildfire. Taller. Stronger. Jawline sharper. Curls longer, falling into his eyes.

And gods… those eyes. Brown and bright — searching. Searching for you.

The second he found you, he stopped breathing. You knew because you did too.

You were doing fine. You were doing fine.

But he always had a way of turning your calm into chaos.

He approached slowly — like you were a skittish creature he was afraid might vanish again.

“Hey…” His voice was soft, careful. “Didn’t think I’d see you here.”

You kept your expression neutral. “Funny. I was kinda hoping the same.”

He winced — guilt flickering quick. But Leo wasn’t the same boy you walked away from.

He stepped closer — confidence buried under nerves.

“You look… wow.” His eyes dragged over you like he was rediscovering every inch. “Like you’re doin’ good without me.”

“I am,” you lied.

He swallowed, jaw tightening. “Well. I’m—” He glanced away, then back. “I’m really not.”

There it was. Honest. Raw. Dangerous.

“Leo…” you warned.

But he shook his head — curls bouncing with the motion. “No. I gotta say this. I screwed up. I let you think you weren’t as important as the stuff I was building.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Turns out the only thing I ever built right was us.”

Your heart thundered like a furnace about to blow.

He took one more step — too close now. Close enough to feel the heat of him.

“Just tell me,” he whispered, terrified, “is there still a version of your future where… I get to be in it?”

The firelight from the bar caught on the metal shining at his throat — a small mechanical heart pendant you never thought you’d see again.