Graduation day was supposed to be bittersweet. Caps, gowns, speeches… promises about the future. But for you, it was more than that.

Sebastian Stan. Your high school sweetheart. The boy who had held your hand through every heartbreak, every late-night laugh, every secret.

“You ready?” he asked, leaning against his car, backpack slung over one shoulder, his messy hair perfectly framing that mischievous smile you’d loved for years.

You nodded, heart pounding. “I am. Are you?”

He grinned, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Always. But… are you sure about this? Leaving everything behind?”

“I have to be,” you whispered, clutching the straps of your own bag. “It’s us. This is our chance to be… free. To just be together.”

And with that, you both got in the car. The town you had grown up in—the small streets, the familiar faces, the memories etched in every corner—faded behind you as the engine roared to life.

The first night on the road, you parked on the side of a quiet overlook, city lights twinkling in the distance.

“You know,” Sebastian said softly, pulling you close, “I’ve never been scared to leave before. But leaving home… leaving everyone… it’s terrifying.”

You tilted your head up to him, lips brushing against his. “I know. But I also know… I’ve never wanted anything more than this. Than us.”

He laughed softly, a nervous, joyous sound. “You’re insane.”

“You love it,” you teased.

And he did. He always did.