𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧' 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝 ─────⋆⋅★𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘦𝘺

𝟓𝟒. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞

The air in the diner was thick with the quiet hum of nostalgia, a soft undercurrent of something raw and unfinished. It was the same place, with its peeling vinyl seats and the faint smell of coffee lingering in the air, but it felt like another world now. Suki's heels clicked against the worn tile as she stepped inside, her dark hair loose and framing her face in soft waves. She spotted him instantly, tucked into the back booth, the same spot they'd sat in years ago when everything between them was still unwritten.

Drew looked up as she walked over, his eyes widening, and for a moment, he seemed as breathless as she felt. She noticed the mug of black coffee sitting in front of him, the iced americano waiting by his side. It was the same drink he'd ordered her years ago, after her first big award win, when he'd surprised her with blueberry pancakes and three little candles wedged between the layers to celebrate. Today, there were no candles, no pancakes. Just Drew, waiting, and something suspended between them that felt fragile yet unbreakable.

Drew cleared his throat, his voice softer than she remembered. "I... uh, I didn't think you'd come."

"I didn't think you'd call."

He nodded slowly, his fingers tracing the rim of his mug in a motion so familiar, it hurt. His gaze flickered over her, lingering on each detail, absorbing her as if he were capturing every part of her for the last time. "I didn't know if you'd remember. This place. After all this time."

A soft breath escaped her, almost a laugh, but too fragile to be more than a whisper. "Of course, I do." She glanced around, her eyes drinking in the cracked vinyl seats, the worn tables, the faint glow of the jukebox in the corner. Every detail whispered memories she hadn't allowed herself to think of for so long. "I remember all our places."

He watched her, his expression softening, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "It's so good to see you," he said, his voice filled with a tenderness that wrapped around her heart, pulling her back to him, to them.

There was a silence, thick and charged, before he spoke again, his words laced with a quiet reverence. "You... you look different."

She felt his words sink into her, carrying an ache that both soothed and unsettled her. She studied him, the man before her who seemed to hold pieces of her she'd thought she'd lost. "So do you."

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze searching her, as if trying to read the parts of her she hadn't yet revealed. "I like your hair," he said, almost shyly, a softness in his voice she'd only heard when they were alone, cocooned in each other's arms.

A small, uncertain laugh escaped her, the sound foreign but familiar. She lifted a hand to her dark hair, her fingers threading through it as if testing the reality of the moment. "Guess I, uh... guess I bleached it for years for no reason." She felt a blush rise to her cheeks, an unfamiliar vulnerability catching her off guard. "Thanks. I like your hair too."

Drew's chuckle was soft, a faint echo of all the laughter they'd once shared. His hand moved to his jaw, brushing over the stubble, an almost bashful gesture. "Yeah, I kept shaving it off for no reason, I guess."

She felt her heart clench, a bittersweet ache spreading through her as she looked at him. The stubble suited him, made him look grounded, as if the years had rooted him in a way she hadn't seen before. "The... stubble. That's new."

He nodded, a quiet laugh rumbling in his chest. "Yeah, well. Things change, I guess."

The words hung in the air, lingering between them like a question, a confession. The years had changed them, reshaped them, left scars and softened edges. But as they sat there, the familiarity between them felt like a song she'd once known by heart, playing softly in the background, coaxing her to remember.