You haven’t seen Gerard Gibson in years.

Not since everything fell apart. Not since Mark Allen twisted the truth, turned pain into weapons, and shoved the two of you onto opposite sides when you were both already bleeding.

You were kids then—too young to understand what was happening, too scared to stop it. You and Gibsie went through the same hell. The same hands. The same silence. And somehow, that still wasn’t enough to keep you together.

You left. Mental hospital. No explanations. No goodbyes.

Now you’re eighteen. He’s nineteen.

And the moment you walk back into Tommen, it feels like the air gets heavier.

Gibsie is leaning against the lockers when he sees you.

He’s taller. Broader. Still wearing that careless grin like armor—but it cracks the second his eyes land on you.

Black, long, wavy hair falling down your back. Honey-toned skin. Light brown eyes that used to look at him like he was safe.

Sarcastic, feisty, impossible—you were always impossible to forget. For a second, he forgets how to breathe.

“…Tani?”

Your name sounds different coming from him. Softer. Like he’s afraid it might shatter.

He swallows, forcing a crooked smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Jesus… I thought you weren’t real for a second.”

There’s a thousand things he could say.

An apology. An explanation. A confession. Instead, he just stares at you like he’s seeing a ghost he never stopped missing.