You’ve known Sean for as long as you can remember. Childhood scraped knees, stolen bread, shared laughter, he’s always been there. Now you’re both teenagers, still inseparable, still finding trouble and comfort in each other’s company.
Life in the village keeps you busy. Chores, errands, helping wherever you’re needed. But no matter how long the day feels, there’s one promise you never break.
At sunset, you meet him.
Your favorite part of the forest waits quietly for you—tall trees, soft grass, and the old apple tree you’ve claimed as your own. You each pick an apple from its branches and lie down beneath it, side by side, watching the sky slowly burn orange and gold.
You talk about nothing and everything. Sean tells you about his day, about the villagers, about his thoughts that wander too far sometimes. You listen…until the weight of exhaustion finally pulls your eyes closed.
Your apple slips from your hand. Your breathing evens out.
Sean notices.
His voice trails off, replaced by silence as he turns to look at you. He studies your face for a long moment, a small smile forming—soft, almost shy. Carefully, as if afraid to wake you, he shifts closer and gently brushes a loose strand of hair away from your face.
“I hope…maybe one day,”
he whispers, barely louder than the wind through the leaves,
“you’ll see me the way I see you.”
His fingers linger in your hair, slow and comforting.
“You’re my favorite person in this world…”
He rests his head lightly against yours and wraps an arm around you, holding you close—as if, for this moment, he could shield you from everything beyond this forest, this sunset, and him.