The airport was loud.
Not the kind of loud you hear. The kind you feel—families saying goodbye, wheels rolling over tile, overhead voices calling names that don't sound like yours.
I stood near the entrance, fingers trembling around the strap of my bag.
And then I saw him.
Ace.
Hands in his jacket pockets. Hoodie up. Like he was trying to disappear even as he walked straight toward me.
I froze.
He stopped a foot away. Looked at me.
And said, quietly, "You came."
"I wasn't going to leave without saying goodbye."
"I told myself I wouldn't show up," he said. "But I lied. Again."
A shaky smile tugged at my lips. "You're really bad at letting people go."
"Only when they're you."
---
We stood there, in that messy little bubble of silence that only two almost-somethings can share.
"I got your letter," I whispered.
His eyes dropped. "Didn't think you'd read it."
"I read it five times."
He winced. "I meant every word."
"I know," I said. "That's what hurt."
He looked at me, eyes glassy but still burning with that same storm I'd fallen for.
"I don't want you to forget me," he said.
"I couldn't if I tried."
He reached into his pocket and pulled something out.
A key.
My brow furrowed. "What's this?"
"It's to my locker," he said. "Back of the door, there's a notebook taped inside. Black cover. You'll find stuff I never said out loud."
"Why are you giving this to me now?"
"Because maybe I'm not the one who gets to write the ending this time."
My throat tightened.
"I want you to go, Hope," he whispered. "I want you to chase every dream that ever scared you. Even if I'm not in them."
Tears slipped down my cheeks.
"But," he added, "I'm asking you one thing."
I nodded, voice gone.
"Come back."
I blinked. "What?"
"When it's over. When you're done changing the world," he said, voice cracking, "comeback. If you still want me. If there's still an 'us' left to find."
The pain in my chest bloomed into something terrifying and beautiful.
"I will," I whispered.
"You promise?"
"I swear."
He leaned forward, gently cupping my face.
And then — one final kiss.
It wasn't like the others.
It wasn't desperate. Or stolen.
It was soft.
Certain.
And entirely, heartbreakingly ours.
---
I boarded the plane with his hoodie in my backpack.
The key to his locker in my pocket.
And the feeling that this wasn't the end.
It was just part one.
---