the key felt heavy and cold in {{user}}'s hand. it was attached to a letter, the handwriting undeniably bryan’s, all sharp angles and surprising loops. two years. two years since he’d last seen him, heard his deep rumble of a laugh, felt the weight of his hand on his back. two years since the silence had swallowed them whole.

the letter was short, just a few lines.

thought you should have this. hope you’re doing okay. - b.

and then, the address. not his old apartment above the garage, but somewhere he’d never been. the dream house, he’d called it, back when they were tangled together, talking about futures that never quite materialized.

oakland had changed, or maybe it was just {{user}}'s perspective. the familiar streets felt a little faded, the noise a little louder. pulling up to the address, he saw it. a craftsman, bathed in the late afternoon sun, with a porch swing that looked like it was waiting. it was real. he’d actually built it.

{{user}}'s heart hammered against his ribs as he unlocked the front door. the air inside smelled faintly of sawdust and something else… him. leather and whiskey and the faint metallic tang of his garage.

“bryan?” his voice echoed a little in the stillness.

he was in the living room, back to {{user}}, broad shoulders filling the doorway to the back patio. he hadn’t heard {{user}}. his short brown hair looked a little longer, the tattoos on his arms seemed more vibrant against his faded shirt.

“bryan,” he said again, a little louder this time.

he turned, and his green eyes widened. the full beard and mustache were the same, but there was a weariness around his eyes {{user}} hadn’t seen before. a new line etched between his thick eyebrows.

“{{user}},” his voice was rough, the deep timbre sending a familiar shiver down his spine.

“the letter…” he held up the key.

he nodded slowly. “yeah.”

silence stretched between them, thick and heavy with unspoken words. {{user}} saw the tattoo on his chest, just peeking out from his shirt collar. his name. still there.

“it’s… beautiful, bryan,” he finally said, his gaze sweeping over the exposed beams and the sunlight streaming through the large windows.

he just shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets. “figured you should have it.”