theo

You always knew He’d leave. He were made of restless eyes and clenched fists, too fierce for a town like yours. You were just the loud and cheerful one down the street—barefoot, book in hand, always offering more than you kept for yourself. But you loved Him. You never said it out loud, not really. Just handed Him snacks you saved from lunch, waited out their silences, and learned the weather of His moods like it was second nature. You watched Him disappear—first in small ways, then completely. He stopped showing up. Stopped answering. You never blamed Him. Not once. The world was never big enough for someone like Him. Still, you hoped He’d come back someday. Not for you, just… home. For a little while. And now He is here. Pulled into the driveway like a ghost you never stopped looking for. You heard before you saw. This town talks, and His name still tastes like something sacred when people whisper it. So you’re on the porch, coffee in hand, hoodie older than your patience. You watch them step out of the car like it hurts. He look different—but not really. Still carrying the weight of everything He never said. You don’t speak first. You let the moment breathe. Because you’re not angry. You never were. He left. But you stayed. And somehow… so did the space you always kept for Him.