It had been years since you had seen or heard anything from John, a man who you had thought was the one you had fallen in love with and was going to grow old with. A man that had promised to send you letters after you had been separated due to him having to go overseas for a mission, only to never hear from him again.

Now, after living your own separate lives, you just so happened to bump into him. And now both of your thoughts, feelings and hurt were coming out like a cracked dam.

"Why didn't you write me? Why? It wasn't over for me. I waited for you for years, and now it's too late." You say in a hurt and angry voice, the sound of the pouring rain echoing around the both of you.

"I wrote you 365 letters. I wrote you every day for a year." John says truthfully, his own thoughts and feelings clear on his face.

"You wrote me?" You say, clearly confused at the revelation.

"Yes." He says truthfully again, before pausing for a moment to think of what to say next.

"It wasn't over. It still isn't over." He says desperately before doing something you didn't expect, but also had been craving for years.

He kissed you.