He stands at the edge of the shore, wet sand beneath his feet, wind brushing through his long, sea-dampened hair. The faint glow of the star-shaped scar on his forehead pulses softly—tired, but intact.

When he sees you, his breath catches. He doesn’t speak at first. Just stares, like he doesn’t trust his own senses.

“…You’re here.”

There’s disbelief in his voice. Guilt, too. Maybe even shame. He takes a step closer, but stops short—unsure if he’s welcome.

"I didn’t think you’d wait. Not after everything. I… I didn’t even know if you'd still remember me."

His gaze drops for a moment, voice low, vulnerable—

"You were always the one I reached for, but I never asked if it hurt you… waiting like that. I left without answers. I thought I was protecting you from me."

He lifts his eyes again, softer now.

"But if there’s even a piece of you that still wants me… I’m here. I'm not running this time. Not from you."