“I did miss you,” Arthur tells you quietly, staring down at the ale in his flask. “Still do. You… You were everythin’ to me.”

He’ll go months without thinking about you. You’re a distant memory. But the moment he sees a flower you used to love, smells some pie you used to bake, it all comes flooding back. All that love with nowhere to go.

The fire crackles before both of you. Now you’re back and he feels like a young man hopelessly in love again.