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The door to the Byers’ house slowly creaks open with Will grunting behind it, not happy about having to greet whoever is here during the crack of dawn, or whatever time it is.
Will opens his eyes, and before he can register what’s going on, too many sounds at once invade his ears.
“Why did you paint this?”
The words pierce Will’s ears, though not fully registering in his half asleep brain.
Mike is standing in front of the door, absolutely drenched with zero jacket in sight. His clothes are dripping wet, his hair equally soaked. He looks like a mess.
The rain sounds like hail hitting the ground, the sounds making Will’s abrupt awakening so much worse.
Mike is gripping a paper in his hand, closely resembling something that Will is familiar with but he just can’t pinpoint what it is. It’s hard to think with the pouring rain outside. A pop of color inside the color peeks through the hard, off-white paper.
Will stands in the doorway, completely and utterly confused, still incredibly groggy from being awoken in the middle of the night. It’s the night before he’s supposed to leave for college. He needs sleep.
Will slumps in place, squinting his eyes and blinking very slowly. He rubs his face a little, shutting his eyes tight to make sure this isn’t some weird dream.
“Wh–…Mike did you…did you bike all the way here? In the rain? What time is–”
“Why?” Mike interrupts, his voice sharp and firm. It jolts Will awake a little more.
“Wha–why what?” Will immediately responds, peeking through his hands that were blocking his vision.
“Why did you paint this ?” Mike speaks every single word slowly, like it’s some complex puzzle that Will needs to solve. The question is simple.
Oh.
…Oh. The painting.
The painting that Mike is holding.
That painting.
Will immediately straightens up, fixing his posture as if he’s scared it will give away the lie.
The painting that Will poured his everything into. The painting that he spent many sleepless nights working on, erasing every little error that seemed the slightest bit out of place.
The painting that was supposed to be a confession.
Will hates this. He hates lying. He hates lying especially to Mike, but if it comforts him, Will would do backflips. Moving for college was an especially difficult decision, but he knew he needed a life on his own. Even if the thought felt utterly wrong.
“Mike, I–I told you when I gave it to you, right? El, she–”
“No.”
…
Will is astounded by the sudden word.
No.
…No?
“What? What do you mean n–”
“Y’know, I really thought about it. I did. I thought about a lot of things, actually. I thought about what life was gonna be like with you off at college, I thought about back in California, how I treated you back then. And I felt bad, Will. I felt so bad. God, I–” Mike cuts himself off to scoff, as if what he was describing physically pained him.
Will’s hand twitches with urgency to comfort Mike. But he can’t. He knows Mike hates feeling like he’s fragile. It’s part of the reason he isn’t vulnerable a whole lot.
“I felt so bad that you went through all this trouble to paint me something so nice, and I was just being an asshole. I know you forgave me and shit, but I just kept staring at the painting like it was gonna–…like it was gonna, I don’t know, make you stay?”
“Mike…” Will whispers, the sound a faint ghost in the pouring rain. But he’s sure that Mike heard it.
“So I kept looking. Like, really looked at it. I’ve had it for all these years and–and it’s always felt like I was missing something. That there was a hint of El in it, like you said. That I was just missing that detail, right?” Mike asks, though the question is completely empty and rhetorical.
Will feels his stomach churn.
No. This can’t be happening.
“And, you know, the more I thought about it, the more it just…didn’t make any sense. If–if El told you what to draw, why wasn’t she in it? Th—that’s weird, right?” Mike pauses for a beat to swallow his own words, like he’s going to vomit if he thinks about this any longer.
“If it was for me, why wouldn’t she tell me first? And–and if you two were with me at the airport,” Mike’s voice cracks. Will then registers that the wetness of Mike’s cheeks are due to tear drops, not rain drops. “Why did you give it to me when it was just you and me? Why–why not at the stupid roller rink?”
“Mike–”
“And if she really, really told you to do all this, then–…then why does that make me…” Mike’s lip quivers violently as his voice spikes, his body betraying him. “Why does that make me sad? Wh–…why am I not happy that–that this was her idea and not yours? Why do I want it to be you, not her, huh?” Mike finishes, his entire body heaving with his breaths that are akin to hyperventilating.
Will just stands there.
“Why do I want it to be you, not her, huh?”
Will can’t answer that.
He couldn’t even answer it for himself when he was just 8 years old. Why him? Why not her? Why not any girl?
Why Mike?
He’s completely frozen in place. Will couldn’t move if he tried.
He’s in a trance of analyzing the way Mike’s chest rises and falls in front of him. He’s obsessed with watching Mike’s helpless expression. Obsessed with the way it makes Will feel so much closer to Mike.
The only sound is both boys’ heavy breathing, followed by rain cleansing the area around them, muffling their own noises so neither of them know how audible they are.
There are no words to describe Will’s horror and, yet, almost relief.
“Because I loved you.”
The words roll off Will’s tongue so fast he doesn’t even register that they’re hanging in the air until Mike’s expression softens, his eyes going wide.
It’s not the whole truth, not really. But if he has to keep some things to himself and take them to his grave, so be it. He’s willing to die with his unrequited love buried beside him in the grave.
Mike’s eyes flicker across Will’s entire face, searching for something, though Will doesn’t know what it is.
“And because…because I wanted to help you. That’s why I lied. I–I wasn’t thinking I was just…when I saw how you looked, how sad and scared you were about El, I just–…I acted. I told you that it was from her.” Will doesn’t even notice he’s sharing tears with Mike until he tastes his own guilt in the form of a tear.
“…But you don’t anymore?” Mike’s words come out slow. Like the question he’s asking is dangerous.
Will furrows his eyebrows.
“Wh–what?”
“Love me. You don’t.” The words are quiet. Not firm like they have been, not accusatory. Scared. “Not…” Mike swallows hard. “Not anymore?” Desperation fills Mike’s throat, catching his words as he speaks in barely cohesive sentences. His eyes frantically search Will, as if looking for a sign that says ‘yes, Mike, I still love you’.
I do. I love you. I love you I love you I love you I love you.
I love you, Mike. I always have. I feel like every moment of my life has been spent with you, like every emotion I’ve ever experienced for the first time was with you. I’ve spent every second of every day trying not to love you. I’ve spent it all. There is nothing left for me to do if not be with you.
It’s silent.
Neither boy speaks a word.
Will stands there, jaw open.
What can he say? What does he say?
…He can’t tell him.
He’s already agreed not to. He’s known his entire life that if there is one thing Will Byers will never do, it’s tell the love of his life the truth. He’s known. He’s known since their first sleepover.
Mike begins to choke on his own sobs. Will hates himself for not doing anything about it.
“It’s…it’s too late?” Mike practically whispers as the rain continues to pour mercilessly on the sidewalk, further dampening his already soaked figure. “I’m too late?” The words are barely there. Barely audible.
But Will hears them.
He wishes he didn’t.
Move. Do something. Tell him it’s okay. Tell him. Say anything.
Yet, nothing happens.
Will continues to stare at the man he’s been in love with since before he knew how to tie his shoes or say the alphabet correctly. He just…stares. He never gets frozen like this. But right now, for the first time ever, he doesn’t know what to say.
“I’m…” Will begins, though the words feel hollow coming out untrue, “…I’m sorry, Mike.” The sound almost gets lost in the hail, and Will wishes they did at some point. Being as vague as possible has worked before, it will work again.
“No.” Mike mumbles as he hurriedly pulls open the painting. He almost rips it from his panicked movements.
Will’s heart tightens and the lump in his throat is impossible to swallow, blocking his airways.
“Mike, what are yo–”
“Look! Look. Look at this, huh? It’s–it’s me! It’s me, right? You–you painted this, you–…” Mike’s words are almost slurred. He’s babbling. He points right to where Will drew him on the paper, smiling. Mike is smiling. He’s laughing. But it’s not real. Not at all. He’s practically suffocating under his own tears. “I’m–I’m the heart! See? You–…you always told me, you always told me I was the heart, right? Was it–was it because…” Mike pauses for a moment. Will’s tears fall even harder. “Was it because I was yours?”
“Mike, stop it.” Will attempts, not even sure what his intentions are. His heart breaks further with every word, and he contemplates just shutting the door in front of Mike’s face to leave him in the pouring rain.
But Will can’t tell him. He can’t. It would be wrong for both of them. This is wrong. This whole thing is wrong, and Will is the root of it all.
It seems as if the universe has been trying to tear them apart the closer they get.
Maybe it’s meant to be that way.
Maybe Will Byers wasn’t made to be loved.
Not by who he wants.
“Tell me. I—I want you to look at me, Will. Look at me.” Mike demands, though the words are weak through his lips.
Will’s lip quivers. He stares at the ground. He can’t. He’s not sure if he can lie to Mike’s face. Mike’s crying, cold, wet, disappointed face.
“Please,” Mike begs.
That word was more than enough. Will’s gaze immediately snaps to Mike’s.
The painting is still being presented through shaky hands, though Mike is gripping the edges.
The paint is beginning to smudge. The rain. It’s smudging the paint.
Mike doesn’t know. He can’t see it.
Will watches the painting drip.
His eye catches on one specific drip. A splash of red, quietly slipping into the section below it.
The heart. Mike’s shield. Dripping down, down to blend with the tip of Will’s flame.
Mike.
“Tell me that you don’t love me.” The words are thick with emotion. They’re desperate.
Will gains the courage to look at Mike once again.
Will can no longer differentiate between the tears on Mike’s face and the rain infiltrating his personal space.
“I…” Painting. Drip. Van. Mike.
Lie. Lie to him. Lie.
“It was…so hard, Mike. I couldn’t—…” Tears fall into Will’s mouth, contaminating his taste with the burn of his lies mixed with his own cries. He sniffles and the urge to quickly wipe the tears off his face is ignored. “I couldn’t spend my whole life just…waiting. Waiting for someone who was never gonna…never gonna show—“
“But I’m here now, right? I’m here?” Mike pleads, and though his words were a question, Will has never ever been more aware that Mike is here.
Mike is right here.
It’s different now. Mike is here for Will.
He’s here. He really, really is.
And Will can’t have him.
What kind of sick fucking twisted world is that? Dangling everything that Will has ever wanted in front of him? Forcing Will to wake from this dream of his?
What would El think? What would El want? How could he do this to her? How could he?
How could he do this to himself? After promising that he would move on, that he would go to college, that he would have a good life?
A good life without Mike?
Yeah.
What was he thinking?
“That—…” Will screws his eyes shut to avoid the sight being presented to him. “That doesn’t matter. Not—not now.”
“Why not?”
“Mike, I—“
“Is it because you don’t love me anymore?”
“I just told—“
“No, no. I—I want you to say it. I want you to say it, Will. If—if it’s really, really true, then I need to hear it.” Mike stresses, his voice cracking more with every word. “I…I want to hear it. Will, I want you to say it.”
Will’s gaze flickers between the other boy’s eyes. They scan his face.
He can’t.
He can’t do it.
He can’t lie. Not to Mike. Not about this.
But he has to. He has to lie. It’s for him. It’s for her.
For her.
“I—…” Will begins, his eyes attracted to Mike like a moth to light. Mike is his light. He always has been. “I—I…” Lie. You have to. For her. “I don’t—…” A breath out.
“I don’t want to love you, Mike.”
Time freezes.
He couldn’t. He couldn’t do it.
“I never did.” Will continues, simply to get the point across. The words are high-pitched thanks to his crying demeanor.
In his heart, Will knew he couldn’t.
He doesn’t want this. He never has.
I’m sorry, El. I’m so sorry.
‘Dear El,
It’s been 3 years without you this Saturday. Long time no see, huh? Haha, you always did love the most obvious jokes. You understood them better. I find myself missing you even more every time someone makes a literal joke. They didn’t confuse you as much as most sarcastic ones or random sayings that didn’t make any sense. I do my best to make sure my jokes are perfectly curated to whoever I’m talking to because of you. I loved seeing the look on your face when you made a joke that had everyone doubling over laughing. Do you remember that, El?
I miss you. He misses you. Yes, he as in Mike. He’s been quieter lately, I think something’s going on with him. I want to check on him, but it feels like it’s not my place anymore. We’ve been…drifting? I don’t know. He’s been distant. But I’m going to college soon! Wow, can you believe it, El? I mean, we didn’t even know if we were gonna make it through high school, and now college?
Well, I guess one of us made it.
I wish you knew how much we missed you. We leave empty spots for you every single day, everywhere we go.
We love you, Jane Hopper-Byers.
We wish you were here. I wish you were here.
-Your dearest (and hopefully favorite) brother, Will.’
White noise surrounds them. Mike Wheeler. Will Byers. Alone in the rain.
It wouldn’t be the first time.
Neither dare speak a word.
That isn’t what Mike wants to hear. But Will didn’t say it because he was thinking about what Mike wanted. He didn’t want to say it either.
Dark orbs filled with soul stare back at Will. They’ve already been penetrated by too many tears, Will thinks. They’re unwavering. All they do is stare. Stare at Will.
Are they going to stay this way forever? Standing here, in the rain? And if one of them leaves right now, would they still be stuck here? Picturing this moment for the rest of their lives?
Stuck.
Will has felt stuck before.
Will has felt stuck for his entire life.
It feels like his legacy is a constant runtime of the day he met Mike. That day on the swings.
He would do anything to have that back.
The deafening silence continues to fall on the two boys.
There is nothing for a moment.
And then, there’s something.
Something that wasn’t there before.
Reciprocation. Understanding.
All in the form of one swift movement.
And then Mike Wheeler is kissing Will Byers.
The touch is sudden, almost aggressive. But it’s right. It’s just right.
Will’s eyes stay frozen open, afraid that if he closes them then Mike will fade away and he’ll wake up.
Is this a dream? Would it matter in the long run?
Would this being a dream make things better or worse?
The warmth on Wills’ lips is something feral. Something Will would compare to what he imagines crack feels like.
Heat builds up into Will’s body like an irresistible temptation.
…
…Who cares if this is a dream?
Will needs this. He needs it. No matter if it’s going against every single one of his principles. He’s sick of thinking about everything. He’s sick of thinking.
Will’s hands fly up to meet Mike’s chiseled jaw, pressing further, deeper into the kiss, like he’s starving for it. Maybe he is.
Mike makes a muffled noise of surprise, suppressed by Will’s lips pushing into his.
Will shuts his eyes harder. This won’t fade. Not if he doesn’t allow it to.
If this moment never ends, he can have everything he’s ever wanted. Free of guilt. Free of doubt.
Through the ecstasy flowing through his veins, Will’s sobs continue, crying into Mike’s mouth.
It’s messy. It’s disgusting. It’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong.
Wrong.
What is wrong?
Is it the obvious? That Mike is a boy and Will is a boy and they’re not supposed to be doing this?
Or is it that Will was never meant to be held like this? Never meant to be kissed senseless so recklessly?
Or is it El? Is it Mike’s dead girlfriend that had spent her entire free time loving Mike? Having him for herself? Does this count as evil, evil revenge?
Will doesn’t intend it that way.
He never would.
I’m sorry.
Mike’s touch turns softer, desperate but comforting. Comforting Will.
Mike runs his hands through the other boy’s hair, savoring every piece of Will while he has him. Drool drips down Will’s chin as his sobs continue. This is everything he’s ever wanted.
All he ever wanted was for Mike to have him like this.
Both boys’ lips are wet with the sorrow of their own actions, and yet they’re so, so happy.
How can one person feel so many things at once?
Being able to feel at all. That’s something Will wished he didn’t sometimes.
Especially when he can feel Mike pulling, pulling away from him.
He can feel the moment slipping right through his fingers, desperately grabbing onto it, begging it to stay.
But he can’t do it. By the time he’s caught up to what’s going on, Mike is already pulling the warmth from him.
The air is thick with tension. Silent.
It feels suffocating. Like Will can’t catch a breath through the heavy gusts of wind, can’t breathe at all, really.
Maybe that adds to the high.
Wordless understanding flows through the rain drops, beginning to slow down.
The rain calms. It still continues downward, but there’s a certain chill to it.
Mike and Will stare at each other. God knows it’s not the first time.
But now, it feels as if Will can really, truly see Mike.
Wordless understanding has always been their thing.
Will doesn’t realize they’re both audibly panting until the rain finally allows mercy to his ears and lowers its volume. As if it wants the two boys to hear each other, which is a ridiculous thought, he knows, but somehow it feels like the right one.
Mike looks like he just ran a thousand marathons. His face is covered by dark curls dripping rain, his everything is soaked. His chest heaves as if breathing is physically difficult.
He looks beautiful like this.
Moonlight highlighting his every feature despite some being darkened.
And then, there’s a small movement.
The features that Will has been admiring for so long crinkle themselves, curling up into a smile. It’s a small smile, but a smile nonetheless.
But though smiles are meant to conduct and express happiness, there isn’t a splotch of it visible in Mike’s eyes. His eyes are dull, staring straight ahead at Will, as if he sees right through him.
Will immediately returns the gesture, unable to contain huffing out a laugh through all the tears. His eyebrows crease like he’s still crying, but now, it’s only joy. For the few moments Will Byers knows that Mike Wheeler is his, all he knows is happiness.
Mike just stays smiling. A knowing smile. Like he just realized something so bittersweet that the thought tastes funny.
His eyes scan Will’s face one last time, incredibly slow, as if he’s studying the other boy’s every feature. Mike’s eyelids flutter as he makes eye contact with Will once more.
The silence is almost confusing now.
Mike blinks very slowly.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Will.”
The words are soft-spoken, defeated. As if he’s absent-mindly saying them, like he’s not even fully conscious.
Will’s eyebrows furrow in worry. Confusion. Concern.
What could that possibly mean?
“What?” Will asks, desperate for an answer to what the words even mean. What? ‘I’ll see you tomorrow’? But Will is leaving for college tomorrow?
That will be the last time they see each other before Will starts anew?
Mike wouldn’t do this to him, right?
He wouldn’t bike all this way, wouldn’t beg Will for a confession, wouldn’t kiss him like it was the last thing he was ever going to do. He would never do that to Will, right? He wouldn’t.
Will was finally not confused. He had accepted that his childhood love would never be reciprocated. He accepted that he would settle for another life, a life with someone else. Someone who loves Will.
Someone who loves Will. He would settle. He would do anything for just the littlest bit of affection, knowing that it was true, knowing that someone loved him. He would forget about his feelings for Mike, or as much as he could.
Why did this happen? Is this punishment? Punishment for going against the laws of nature? Punishment for it being specifically Mike? What is this?
Suddenly, all the questions he had stopped asking himself came rushing back.
“I can’t…I can’t do this.” Mike speaks so gently, despite the words coming out of his mouth. “You’re gonna go. You’re going to leave me.”
“No. No, no, I can stay, I—I don—“
“You have to go away.” The words are choked out, like somebody is physically punching the air from Mike’s lungs. “You have to. You…you can’t—you can’t stay. Not here. You need to be there, Will, you need to—“
“Then why did–…” Will scoffs like he can’t believe what is happening right now. “Why did you do this? Why would–…why would you do this to me? What, is this–is this punishment for something I did?” He asks, raising his voice ever so slightly, but not out of anger, he is seriously asking. “Did I make you so upset that you decided to play with my feelings and then just–just leave me here?” The last words are quiet, as if he was ashamed they ever left his mouth.
The rain begins heavy again.
Thunder booms over the two boys, and the atmosphere change feels all too real as the rain drops blend with Will’s tears wellin
“What?” Mike’s expression falls, like the words broke him inside. As if he’s not the one who instigated these feelings. As if he’s completely innocent. “No, no, what—…Will. Of course not I—“
Will blinks quickly, ignoring the tears welling, hoping that it’ll make all of this pass. Maybe if he blinks hard enough, Mike will disappear as well. He’s never wanted that. But now he wishes that they never even met.
His breathing is scattered, as is his thoughts.
He takes a step forward, no longer holding back his words.
“You–” Crunch.
The faint noise immediately catches both of the boys’ attention. The smallest sound seems to echo throughout the atmosphere, despite the rain leaving stains on both of the boys’ continuously.
Will looks down.
His foot is planted atop of a yellowish-white fabric.
The colored fabric folds around his foot.
It’s soaking wet.
It’s almost been ripped completely.
The painting.
Mike had long forgotten it to kiss Will. He must have dropped it.
It lays there, completely helpless, and though Will can’t even see the actual painting, the back of it is covered in smudged paint. Tears, dirt, love. All compiled into one piece of paper.
It’s destroyed.
Will’s eyes widen, realization sinking into his subconscious. The painting. Gone. It’s gone.
He immediately removes his foot to look at the damage.
Its off-white coloring is barely visible underneath the mounds of dirt and wet spots.
But there it is.
Will knows exactly which part of the painting has been completely moved to the outside, because through his blurry vision, he spots the outline of a shield, the crowned heart in the middle almost completely unrecognizable.
He stares blankly. Maybe if he stares, he’ll never have to look up. He’ll never have to see Mike’s expression. He’ll never have to know how Mike feels about this.
Tears sting at Will’s eyes once more, the feeling almost numbing at this point.
He could stay in this miserable second forever if it meant never discovering anything new about Mike ever again.
Every little detail hurts so much more. He watches the painting get furthermore soaked, bleeding into the floor.
The rain makes tiny drops splattering across the floor, and Will just watches.
For a moment, it’s almost as if his brain is calm.
Not calm. Quiet.
As if there’s a point where so many thoughts become too many. Numb.
His ears ring, but he can’t bring himself to cover them.
It’s almost funny. This would only happen to Will Byers.
The night before he is going to start a new life. A life away from Mike. A life away from trauma. A life of his own.
But perhaps he doesn’t deserve that kind of peace.
It’s times like these where he wonders if his existence was ever some kind of universal tragedy.
Will guesses it’s not the thought that’s comical, but rather he only allows himself to think about it in such a way, because otherwise it’s real. Will has to face that it’s real.
It all feels too real. It needs to feel not real. It needs to feel like it’s in the past and doesn’t affect him whatsoever anymore.
Mike.
Sometimes, it was easier to pretend Mike wasn’t real either.
Then he wouldn’t have to think about his feelings.
Mike.
Suddenly, a cold breeze flows through the air.
An unnatural breeze.
Will’s eyes snap up to check Mike’s expression.
But he’s met with only the view to the house across the street.
No wet, dark curls. No soaked sweater. No shaky hands. No noise.
No Mike.
…He’s gone.
Will frantically searches for Mike in the area, desperate to say goodbye, to apologize, to yell at him, to kiss him again, something. His eyes scan like a madman, his head twisting and turning.
His eyes blur as he runs out into the street, hyperventilating from pure exhaustion.
“Mike?!” He screams. He looks insane. His feet barely catch up, puddles coating his feet.
His sobs are barely audible through the heavy atmosphere, as if his cries of pain mean absolutely nothing. Insignificant.
Obsolete.
He supposes this was another example of that.
“Mike!” He continues to yell, his shoulders hunching over with sorrow.
And though he had accepted this fate long ago, Will can’t help the way his knees buckle, forcing his entire body to the ground in collective heaves.
“Mike…” The word comes out almost ghastly. As if it was completely empty. It was no longer a call. It was acceptance.
Acceptance that this is the end of their story. Mike can tell whatever he wants, but right here, right now, this is where they knew. They both knew.
“I’m too late?” Will recalls Mike’s words from earlier.
Yes.
Yes. You were.
Maybe he wouldn’t have been. Maybe if Will had made another move. Maybe if he had given Mike advice to break up with El. Maybe if he had consoled him more. Maybe if they had hugged just a little longer. Maybe if he didn’t stop his hand from reaching for Mike’s.
Maybe if he had never given him that painting.
…Maybe.
Such a silly thing.
Wondering what would’ve happened if something so simple had changed.
And yet, it’s torture, isn’t it?
Will closes his eyes.
“Hey, Will!” Mike calls out, waving his hand around enthusiastically.
Will whips around to stare at the other boy, his face immediately brightening as he spots him.
“Miiike!” Will runs towards his best friend, diving into his shoulder in an incredibly warm embrace.
The hug is almost rib-crushing, as it usually is. They always hug like they’re never going to see each other again.
“How sweet,” Karen touches her heart, her lips curling into a downward smile. “Aren’t they just adorable? I’m so glad Mike found a friend. I thought he was gonna have to spend kindergarten all alone.”
“Me, too. I’m glad they have each other. Will was…having a tough time, to say the least.” Joyce admits, biting her nails and staring at the two boys, who are still embracing.
Mike and Will just giggle at each other, and though they’re pulled away from the embrace, it still feels like they’re holding each other so tight. Like they’ll never let go.
A small smile spreads across Will’s lips.
Sweet.
They’re sweet.
Maybe they always will be. But that’s all they’ll ever be.
Sweet.
Somewhere bordering more than, but never straying too far.
Will imagines his own paladin riding away on a trusty steed.
The thought almost makes him giggle.
Maybe it’ll continue to do so even in college. Maybe he’ll never stop thinking about this moment for the rest of his life.
But he’s spent his entire life replaying moments with his love, anyway.
What’s a few years more?