Theme song:"All I want by Kodaline"
He came back the next day.
No apology this time. No explanation. Just a look—gentle and full of things left unsaid. It felt like we had agreed, silently, not to talk about what hurt.
I handed him his usual coffee. He took it without speaking. We sat in the corner by the window, where the rain painted soft grey lines across the glass.
"Let's go somewhere," he said suddenly, halfway through his drink.
I blinked. "What?"
"Now. Before you say no, it's not something scandalous." He smiled, tired but real. "Just a walk. I hate sitting all the time. Makes me feel like I'm waiting for something that won't happen."
Something about his voice made me stand up before thinking. I grabbed my coat and followed him out, the café bell softly closing the chapter behind us.
The streets were damp and shiny, the kind of London afternoon where the sun tries to break through but never quite makes it. Elian walked slowly, like someone who had all the time in the world—or none at all.
"I used to come this way when I was a kid," he said. "Before things got complicated."
"Complicated how?"
He didn't answer. Just shoved his hands deeper into his coat and kept walking.
We turned down a quieter street, where brick walls held memories and the world felt slower. He stopped near a little park, where swings swayed empty in the wind.
"I always thought I'd do something big," he said. "Something that would matter."
"You are," I replied, too fast, too raw. "You still can."
He looked at me then. Really looked. Like I wasn't just someone who poured his coffee but someone who knew how to read between the lines.
"Elian," I whispered, "what are you not telling me?"
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Looked away.
Instead, he reached for my hand.
And suddenly, we were walking again—his fingers brushing mine, then staying. A quiet kind of closeness. Not loud or dramatic. Just two people, one heartbeat apart, pretending the world wasn't spinning faster than either of us could keep up with.
When we reached the Thames, the sky had turned gold.
We stood by the river, saying nothing, watching as the city began to light itself up in slow motion. A street performer played a violin a few meters away. The sound slipped through the air like a memory.
He turned to me, his face soft in the glow.
"If I ask you to come with me next time," he said, "would you say yes?"
I didn't even hesitate.
"I already have."