You hadn't ended on the best of terms. And that had been fine with both of you.

That was until you came home for the holidays. That was until you locked eyes with him, behind the counter at Dot's, exactly where he'd been the first time you saw him. That was until you were throwing a sweatshirt on and taking silenced steps out of your parents' house, before getting into your car and meeting him behind the church at one in the morning.

It felt unexplainable, it was like he was the magnetic force your compass needle danced on, ultimately leading you right back into his arms. You told yourself you hadn't even wanted to see him once while you were waiting in the terminal, watching your plane roll down the tarmac towards your gate. Now, that seemed like the wish of an idiot.

Because here he was, leaned against the car you'd spilled a chocolate milkshake all over once. He didn't get upset. Not at you, at least.

Hands in his pockets, his hair moving slightly in the sharp wind. God, he was still him. He was still your Dodge. What else were you expecting?

You knew you were sealing your fate when you opened your car door. That didn't stop you from pretending you could walk away at any time. After all, that's what you flew in thinking. He didn't have to know that you realized the truth as soon as you took your first breath of Carp air in what felt like forever. Not yet.

Because now that you were standing there, two lone figures backed only by powered-down hunks of metal, and you couldn't help but regret how it had all ended. The screaming match. The deep-rooted devastation on his features when you told him you couldn't be stuck here. Stuck. You always hated how bitterly you spat that word out, right into his face.

Neither of you had forgotten about that night. But that was four months and thousands of miles ago. You'd heard somewhere that he'd taken his own trip away from this town. He read your college acceptance letter to you. None of it mattered now.

You were both home again. In more ways than one.