It was a soft, overcast afternoon in Brisbane, the kind where the clouds seemed to hum with quiet electricity. Matthew leaned against the metal rail outside the training ground, lacing and unlacing his fingers as he waited.

When he saw you step out of the facility doors, his lips twitched upward into that familiar, subtle smile — the one that always seemed to say more than words could.

“You came,” he said gently, straightening up. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly trying to play it cool — but the way his eyes held yours betrayed the flicker of nerves beneath.

“I, uh... I know things were weird last time we talked. But I’ve been thinking about it. About you. About us, I guess.”

A pause. The hum of a distant magpie. His voice dropped, softer now.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just… I’d regret it if I didn’t tell you.”

He looked up at the sky, then back at you, more certain this time.

“Maybe we could start over. Just a walk. A chat. No pressure. I miss hearing your laugh more than I’d like to admit.”