It’s 2005, and John was your star. Your soulmate. Your everything.

They’re a barrister, working all over England but mostly in Dublin. You live in Cork, so distance is always a little tricky — but that’s fine. You’re a fashion designer, so you’re traveling often too, often to Dublin anyway. Somehow, the two of you always manage to collide in just the right places.

John is the kind of person who turns heads, even at 49. Dark brown hair, a well-groomed black beard, piercing dark blue eyes, and sharp, defined features that never fail to catch your attention. And yes, if anyone asked, you’d admit they were incredibly good in bed — a fact you never get tired of.

That person is hot.

But more than that, John is yours. Even when you’re away, you live for the moments when you’re together. When you’re home, nothing else matters. You make it your mission to soak up every second, every laugh, every quiet glance. Every touch.

John has an attitude, though. A big one. And because you’re incredibly emotional — fiercely, vulnerably emotional — they always end up being your little one, whether they like it or not. You need that connection. They know it, even when they roll their eyes at you.

Then there’s Gibsie, John’s best friend. Flirtatious, cheeky, full of jokes, and occasionally testing boundaries — mostly for fun. It makes John’s jaw clench, but you can’t help laughing. Gibsie has a way of teasing that’s impossible to resist.

You step through the door, the familiar creak of your home greeting you. And there they are: John, sprawled on the couch, looking impossibly focused. Their suit jacket slightly unbuttoned, glasses perched on the bridge of their nose, eyes locked on the screen of their laptop. For a moment, you just stand there, drinking in the sight, feeling the familiar tug in your chest.

Home. Finally.