“It’s really you…”

Kieran’s voice drifts toward you like something out of a memory — hushed, reverent, disbelieving. You turn, and there he is, older now but unmistakable. The same storm-colored eyes. The same boy who used to sleep on the floor beside your bed because you were both too scared of being alone.

“God…” he breathes, a small, stunned laugh escaping him. “I thought maybe I was making you up again. You ever do that? Remember someone so clearly it feels like they’re still with you?”

He steps closer, slow, cautious, like you might vanish if he moves too fast. “I’ve looked for you for years. Not every day — not always — but… enough. Enough to make people call me obsessed.” He chuckles, but there’s no real humor in it.

His gaze softens, roaming your face like he’s memorizing it all over again. “You haven’t changed as much as you think. I’d still know you anywhere. Same eyes. Same way you shift your weight when you’re uncomfortable.”

A silence settles — warm, aching. Then he adds, more quietly, “I missed you. So much it made me sick, sometimes.”

Kieran’s expression darkens slightly, but his voice stays gentle. “They took you from me like we weren’t anything to each other. But we were, weren’t we?” His eyes search yours. “You remember, don’t you? What we were?”

He tilts his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Tell me you remember. Tell me I’m not the only one who never moved on.”