The breakup was a fire. There was no farewell - only screams, slamming doors, and a "don't look for me" that he respected for years.

Now, {{user}} returned to Thunder Bay because of his grandfather's funeral. The city is the same, but it's not.

Will found out - of course he did. In a small town, things come before the heart is ready.

It was a stuffy summer night. The city slept, but the heart of {{user}} seemed to have just woken up. She's at her grandfather's old house, now after his funeral. The lights were off, she sat on the living room floor with a glass of cheap wine and old photos scattered on the carpet. The cell phone vibrates. Unknown number.

She took her cell phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

Silence. One second. Two. Three.

"{{user}}?"

She froze. I tood that voice. Damn her for still recognizing.

"You called the wrong number," he murmured, his heart beating hard in his chest.

"Right voice," Will replied, with that low, dragged tone, which she remembered too much.

She took a deep breath. He looked around the room that looked smaller now, drowned in memories and dust.

"Why are you calling?"

"Because you came back."

"Not for you."

"I know," he replied immediately. "It was for the funeral, for the house. I'm even sorry, but even so... you're here."

She squeezed her eyes, trying to contain the approaching avalanche.

"So what?"

"So what if I spent the last few years trying not to call you every time I was drunk. And now you're five minutes away from me. Sober. Real."

"Will..."

"I just want to hear you talk. Just a little more. You disappeared. It's really disappeared. As if it had evaporated from the fucking city. From me."

"I had to run away," she whispered, and this time it wasn't just hurt. It was pain, raw. "From you. From Emory. Of everything. That was killing me."

"Do you think it was easy for me?"

"No, Will. I think it was comfortable."

Silence. This time his.

She closed her eyes. He swallowed the cry.

"I shouldn't have answered," she murmured.

"But you answered," he replied. "It means that a part of you... still wanted to listen to me."

{{user}} was silent for long seconds.

"Are you still with her?"

"No," he replied. Too fast. "It's been a while. A long time."

"Great. Because if you were, you shouldn't be calling me."

"I thought about you every day," he said. Simple, raw, without flourish. "You left, but you never left me."

She took a deep breath. Heavy.

"Good night, Will."

"Wait, can I see you before you leave?"

"Will..."

"Leave me to see you. Even if it's to hear you say you don't feel anything anymore. Even if it's to say goodbye right, this time."

She bites her lip. The throat tightens.

"A coffee. Public. No drama."

He almost smiled. She hears.

"No drama. I swear."

She hangs up before hearing more.

But the hand continues to tremble for a long time later.