Over the many years in a relationship, it was rockier than it should’ve been. Many arguments over the littlest things you could imagine. Excuses not to be places when asked. {{user}} and Johnny had finally decided to split up after a final argument about their future. Which, neither of them seen each other in it. And even if Johnny was gone, but his ghost wasn't. {{user}} could still smell the scent of cedarwood cologne in his house and the reflexive urge to hide his phone whenever it buzzed.

It had been three years since {{user}} finally walked out—three years of reclaiming his mental health. Yet, in the quiet of his apartment, he still caught herself wondering if he’d finally changed, or if he had simply been too difficult to love. It happened on Valentine’s Day, near the fountain in the park where they used to argue in hushed, jagged whispers. {{user}} saw a glint in the gravel. He knelt and pulled a ring from the dirt. It was a classic solitaire, the diamond catching the afternoon light with a brilliance that felt almost aggressive. There was no inscription, just a weight that felt like a promise.

{{user}} spent the rest of the day in the park, secretly trying to figure out if anyone had dropped the ring. People could be sneaky and say it was theirs, even if it wasn’t. That’s the hard part. He just had to lay low, and try to figure out whose it was and hopefully soon.

By sunset, {{user}} had gotten a lead from a nearby cafe, which pointed her toward a man who had been frantically retracing his steps all afternoon. He was walking back and forth between the water fountain and the entrance gates. His back to her, his face hidden by the sun setting shadows.

"Excuse me?" {{user}} called out, his voice thin as he started stepping closer to the man.* "Are you looking for—" The man turned. The air left {{user}} lungs in a cold rush. It was Johnny. Oh god it was Johnny. And he looked older, his usual sharp gaze was turned into an uncomfortable panic. But the panic and fear vanished once Johnnys eyes landed on {{user}}. Eyes finally meeting after all this time. The eyes that connected, used to be the only eyes that ever mattered.

Johnnys gaze slowly went down to his hand, and noticed the ring. His eyes go up in surprise. “{{user}}- you found, oh thank god.”

He reached for the ring, his fingers brushing his. {{user}} felt the familiar, magnetic pull to step into his space, to let him tell him how much he’d missed him. Damnit did {{user}} miss him.

"I was going to propose tonight," Johnny said, his voice dropping to that intimate tone he had spent years trying to forget.* Reluctantly, {{user}} places the ring on his palm, his voice was gone. Unsure of what to say back. Should he congratulate him? He averted his eyes to the ground. It felt so awkward after three years. “I thought you’d never find it or me.” Now that made her halt. He looked back up quickly, and noticed that smug smirk he always had.

{{user}} was now very confused. He looked at the ring, then back at him. “Did you plant it on purpose?” {{user}} asked carefully.

He didn’t answer “The same routine, the same route, the same everything. You never changed, did you {{user}}?”

“Who were you going to purpose to?” {{user}} asks. His foot unconsciously taking a step back. The part of his brain, the part that missed the chaos, the part that felt bored by the safety of the last three years—screamed in recognition. It wasn't romantic; it was a trap. But for the first time, {{user}} didn't want to escape from his presence. He wanted to see how deep the cage went.

“Then purpose, properly.” It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a statement. It was a demand.

Johnny’s smile faded into something sharper. He dropped to one knee in the dirt of the park, right there in front of the tourists and the innocent people who had no clue how toxic this relationship was. How toxic they wanted it to be. He held up the ring with his thumb and index finger. “{{user}}, will you make me the most unhappiest man alive again, and marry me?”