the truck was idling in the driveway, its exhaust blooming like a gray ghost in the sharp montana air. inside, every inch of space was crammed with boxes and bags, the physical weight of a life packed up and ready to be hauled east. {{user}} stood on the porch, his knuckles white as he gripped his keys, the metal biting into his palm. he didn't mind the pain; it was a grounding wire for the static humming in his chest.

kayce was leaning against the railing, his silhouette tall and rugged against the fading light. he was a man built of hard angles and quiet intensity, dressed in his usual uniform of worn denim and a plaid flannel shirt that strained slightly against his shoulders. he was looking out at the horizon, his gaze fixed on the darkening peaks of the mountains instead of {{user}}. he knew if he turned his head, if he caught the way the porch light softened the curve of {{user}}'s face, the three years of words bottled up behind his ribs might finally break loose.

the brand on his chest felt heavy, a reminder of the ranch and the father that always seemed to stand between him and the life he actually wanted. he shifted his weight, the leather of his holster creaking, the sound amplified by the stillness of the evening.

"you’re really doing it, then?" he asked, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that barely carried over the hum of the engine. "just... heading east and not looking back?"

{{user}} took a shaky breath, the cold air stinging his lungs. {{user}} looked at the back of his head, at the medium length dirty blonde hair tucked under his hat, and felt the familiar, agonizing pull toward him. but the truck was packed, and the silence between them had gone on long enough to become its own kind of wall.

"there’s nothing left for me to look back at, kayce," {{user}} said, his voice steady despite the way his heart was thundering. "i thought there was. i waited a long time to see if there was."

kayce finally turned, his blue eyes intense and clouded with a yearning he couldn't quite hide. he stepped toward {{user}}, the space between them suddenly feeling too small and yet vast as a canyon. he reached out, his hand hovering near the railing as if he wanted to catch {{user}} before he drifted away.

"{{user}}..." he started, his name breaking on his tongue like a confession.

he looked at {{user}} then, really looked at him, taking in the way he stood his ground, stubborn and beautiful and tired of waiting for a sign he’d been too afraid to give. the engine continued its steady rhythm in the background, a countdown they were both running out of time to stop.