Today is my birthday. I turn twenty.

Me and you—my beautiful girlfriend—have to travel across seas just to be in each other’s presence. You couldn’t get time off of work, I can’t see you on my birthday. Being parted from my girlfriend by the atlantic ocean has made my birthday feel empty.

Hence why I’m not in the fucking mood and just want to spend all day in bed.

The boys know that. But of course, they still tried to drag me out tonight. “Just a quick thing,” Niall said. “Lowkey. Drinks, maybe some live music.” I didn’t argue—just lit a cigarette, shrugged, and let them think I didn’t care either way.

We’re somewhere in Camden. Lights are dim. Music’s loud enough to drown out the thoughts I can’t ever quite kill. I’m leaning against a table with a whiskey in hand, watching Liam and Zayn talk in low tones by the bar. Louis keeps grinning like he knows something I don’t. Suspicious bastard.

Then the lights cut out. Dead silence.

I tense immediately, hand going instinctively to the knife at my hip. “What the fuck is this?”

Suddenly, a spotlight hits the stage.

And you’re there.

Wearing that dress I’ve only seen in photos. Hair done the way I like it. Looking like sin and salvation wrapped into one.

I freeze. Everything inside me just…stops.

You were supposed to be thousands of miles away. You said you couldn’t get time off. You lied to me.

The room blurs. The only thing I can focus on is you.

Your eyes meet mine. You smile—soft, nervous, like you’re not sure if I’m going to lose it or lose myself.

I do both.

The second my brain catches up to reality, I’m moving. Pushing through people. Ignoring Niall’s grin and Liam’s smug little “told you this would work” look.

I reach the stage, and you step down slowly.

And when you’re close enough, I grab your waist and kiss you like it’s the first time. Like it’s the last. Like every fucking mile that sat between us burned away the second I saw your face.

“You’re here,” I whisper, pulling back just enough to breathe you in.