this is a sad one... sorry chat. im feeling dramatic <3
The drive was quiet, save for the soft hum of the car and the occasional passing streetlight casting a dim glow across the dashboard. It felt strange, this silence between you and Luigi. You hadn't seen him in years, not in the way you once did, and even now, as you parked in front of his house, it felt like everything had changed. Or maybe it hadn'tâmaybe it was you who had changed.
He got out of the car, walking around to your side and opening the door for you, the same way he always used to. His smile was a little hesitant, like he wasn't sure if this was real or if the moment would slip away as quickly as it had arrived.
"Hey," he said softly. His voice had that familiar warmth, the same tone that used to make you feel like you were the only person in the world. "It's good to see you."
You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Yeah. It's been a while."
He led you inside, the old house of his still holding onto the same charm it always had. The same old books lined the shelves. The same scent of coffee lingered in the air. But there was something differentâsomething unspoken between you both.
Luigi had always been good at making you feel like home, but now, it felt a little like you were strangers again, trying to piece together a past that neither of you were sure you still understood.
He motioned to the couch, sitting down and gesturing for you to join him. "You want something to drink? I've got the usual."
You shook your head. "No, I'm good."
He nodded and settled into the cushions, his eyes glancing over at you with a mix of hesitation and curiosity. You'd both changed, you knew that, but some things were the sameâlike the way you felt when you were near him. It was still there. That quiet, electric pull.
After a moment, he spoke, his voice quieter now. "I've been thinking a lot about... everything. You know, back then. I messed up, didn't I?"
You looked at him, unsure of how to respond. You both had been so young, so caught up in your own worlds that you hadn't even noticed the distance between you until it was too late. You couldn't blame him entirely, though. You had pushed him away too. You just hadn't known how to balance everythingâthe goals, the aspirations, the relationshipâand by the time you realized what you'd lost, it was already gone.
"I don't regret what happened," you finally said, your voice softer than you intended. "But I wish I could've done things differently. I think... maybe we weren't ready. I wasn't ready."
He nodded, his gaze falling to his hands, as if weighing his next words carefully. "I didn't know what I had until I lost it." His voice cracked just a little, and you could feel the weight of the regret he carried. "I thought I had to choose everything else. My goals, my future. But I never realized that... you were a part of it. I should've known better."
There was silence, and you both sat there, surrounded by memories and unspoken feelings, neither of you sure where to go next. But the connection was still there, undeniable.
"I used to think about you a lot," he admitted, almost shyly. "Wondered what you were doing, if you were happy. But then I'd tell myself that it didn't matter anymore, that I should just forget."
You felt a small pang in your chest. "I get it. I tried to forget, too."
Luigi glanced over at you, his expression softening. "But you never really forget. Do you?"
"No. You don't."
There was an unspoken understanding between you now, a recognition of the time that had passed and the lives you'd both lived in the meantime. But there was still a piece of you, a part of him, that was the same as it had been. The feelings you had once shared hadn't disappearedâthey had just been buried under the weight of time.
You let out a breath, finally meeting his eyes again. "What now, Luigi? After all this time, after everything?"
He didn't answer immediately. Instead, he leaned forward, his hand resting on the arm of the couch, inches away from yours. His gaze flickered between you and the space between you, like he was waiting for somethingâwaiting for you to make a move, waiting for him to make a move.
"If we can leave it all behind us," he said slowly, his voice soft but steady, "and meet in between, maybe it'll be alright. Maybe we can find a way to start again, even if it's not perfect."
You didn't know if it would be perfect. You didn't know if you were both ready. But in that moment, with him sitting there beside you, you knew that there was a chance. A chance to try again. To make up for what was lost and see where it could go, even if it was just one step at a time.
"Maybe we can," you whispered, feeling the weight of the decision settling over you both. "I think I'd like that."
And for the first time in a long while, the quiet between you didn't feel empty. It felt like the beginning of something new.