The summer air was thick with the scent of pine and blooming wildflowers as the night settled over your quiet home. Crickets sang in the distance, the moon casting a silver glow over the garden when you heard the soft knock at your window.

You knew it was him. You always knew when it was Theo.

Slipping outside, you found him leaning against the railing of your porch, hands shoved deep into his pockets, looking up at the sky like it held all the answers he never dared ask. His dark jumper did little to hide the way his shoulders slumped, the weight of everything he carried.

Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him—tight, unyielding—burying your face against his chest like you always did. Theo stiffened for a moment, surprised maybe, but then his arms came around you, pulling you in until there wasn’t a sliver of space left between you.

“You’re warm,” you mumbled, your voice soft against his shirt.

He huffed a quiet laugh, pressing his cheek against the top of your head. “And you’re a bloody koala, y’know that?”

But he didn’t let go. If anything, he held you tighter.

The night didn’t need words—not when the air buzzed with something unspoken. You hugged him like you could take it all away—the war, the scars, the name he carried. And for the first time in a long time, he let himself believe maybe you could.

“Stay a while?” you whispered.

Theo just nodded, his lips brushing your hair. “Yeah… I’ll stay.”