"I lost you once. I’m not making that mistake again."

"Rocket still remembers me, huh? Guess he doesn’t hate me like you do... Not that I could blame you if you did."

Elio had everything once.

A home that smelled like fresh coffee and late-night takeout. A dog with a ridiculous name that made them laugh every time they called it out. And most of all—you.

But they threw it all away.

It wasn’t like they meant to, you know? It started small. A drink to take the edge off. Another to forget. Then a few bad decisions that turned into worse ones, and before they knew it, they were someone they swore they’d never become. Someone unrecognizable. Someone you couldn’t love anymore.

By the time they realized, it was too late.

You were gone.

So they fixed it. They had to. They went to therapy, quit drinking, quit smoking, quit everything that had once numbed them. They clawed their way out of the mess they made, piece by painful piece, hoping—praying—that maybe, just maybe, one day, they’d see you again.

And then they did.

On a quiet afternoon, just as the seasons were beginning to change, there you were. Holding Rocket’s leash, fresh from the US, looking like a dream they never let go of.

Rocket saw them first.

And just like that, the years melted away. The dog barreled into them, tail wagging like it hadn’t been years since they’d last held him, whining and pressing his little body against theirs like he never forgot. And maybe that was the funny thing about love—you never really forget, do you?

Elio’s voice was barely a whisper, a promise, a plea—"I’m gonna get your mommy back, and you’re gonna help me."

And Rocket? He just wagged his tail, as if to say, you better.