Loves not all sunshine and rainbows, yes, you'd heard. All the stories of heartbreak and misery told from generation to generation by old, miserable people. Your parents were no different, spouting nonsense about Romeo and Juliet or some other sad love story.
“I’m just saying,”Your mom said after maybe one too many glasses of wine, “don’t be surprised when the honeymoon phase is over and you can’t stand each other anymore!”
"What do you think, John? If love is supposed to be hard, now come we don't have any problem with it?" You ask sarcastically after you'd left dinner. He tapped the steering wheel, and then shrugged.
"Well then maybe what we have isn't love, maybe it's something entirely new and unable to be understood by the feeble human brain."He said after a moment.
“Right,” you muttered, leaning your head against the window. “We’re just… what? A scientific anomaly?”
“Exactly.” He nodded, as if proud of himself. “Future textbooks will study us. John and—” He paused, glancing over at you. “—you. The couple that broke the system.”
“You forgot my name already?I didn’t think you were that old.” You teased, turning toward him with a raised brow.
“No,” he said, smiling faintly, eyes still on the road. “I just think it sounds better dramatic like that.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help but smile. He loved his dramatics, which was part of the reason you loved him. Outside, the streetlights blurred into soft gold streaks against the dark, the quiet hum of the car wrapping around you both like something fragile yet steady.
“Maybe we should come up with a name for it, y’know like when you make a discovery and name it after yourself.”You suggest. He thinks on it for a second.
“While in nature that practice is narcissistic, but I have to agree with you here. I don’t think John is a good name for an easy kind of love like this though, it’s too plain.” The two of you brainstorm for a while, the drive home giving you time to think. When you finally pull into your driveway , it clicks.
“Let’s just call it ‘Munch’ , simple and easy to remember, and it uses both of our names technically.”This gets a grin out of John who nods slowly, wrapping his longer,slender arm around your waist as you walk towards your front door.
“Alright, but when we’re in public and people hear me say ‘I munch you’ , you’re also gonna look like a freak. And i’m not saying it in front of the guys in homicide either, i’d never hear the end of it.”He groans.
“You can just munch them too!”You nod, kicking your heels off and sinking down onto the sofa. When he doesn’t immediately sit next to you, you look up at him. His face is twisted and he looks like he’s about to vomit all over your rug.
The clock on the living room wall was mocking you. Every second felt deliberate, like it knew you were waiting, like it was savoring it. Each sharp little click echoed through the apartment, filling the silence John had left behind.
You checked your phone again. Nothing. No message, no excuse, not even a lazy “sorry, something came up.” Just the same blank screen reflecting your own expression back at you—tight jaw, tired eyes, hope slowly draining into something heavier.
At first, there had been reasons. “Work ran late”, “Traffic was terrible.”, “My phone died.” . And you had believed him, because of course you did. Because back then, he’d still show up eventually, breathless and apologetic, wrapping you in a hug like that erased the waiting.
You glanced at the table. Two plates, two glasses, and the candle you’d lit an hour ago burned halfway down, wax pooling unevenly like it, too, had given up on symmetry. You wondered, not for the first time, if you should blow it out or let it burn itself into nothing.
For a moment, nothing changed.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Then—
BZZZ
Your heart jumped before you could stop it. Reflex. Hope, stubborn and automatic.
John: “Hey. Sorry. Something came up.”
You let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Of course it did,” you muttered to the empty room.Your fingers moved before you could overthink it.
“Something always comes up, John.”
The typing bubble appeared almost instantly this time. That was new. That was almost worse.
John: “Don’t start, okay? It’s been a long day.”
You blinked at the screen. “Don’t start?” you repeated aloud, incredulous.
“I’m not starting anything. I’ve been sitting here for two hours.”
A pause, longer this time. The clock filled the gap again, each tick pressing harder against your ribs.
John: “I told you work’s been crazy lately.”
You shook your head, pacing now, the floor cool under your bare feet. “You didn’t tell me you weren’t coming,” you said, even as your thumbs translated the words.
John: “I didn’t say I wasn’t coming.”
You stopped pacing.
“Right,” you whispered. “You just didn’t show up.”
Your hands trembled slightly as you typed.
“What time is it, John?”
No response.You stared at the message, then at the clock.
Tick.Tick.Tick.
John: “Why are you making this a big deal?”
Something in your chest tightened, then snapped. Cleanly, like a thread pulled too far for too long.
“A big deal?” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “Yeah… okay.”
You looked at the table again. The plates. The glasses. The candle, now barely holding onto its flame.
“You’re right.”
The reply came faster this time.
John: “Thank you.”
You almost smiled at that. Almost.
“It’s not a big deal.” you typed. “It’s just what you do.”
The typing bubble flickered, stopped, started again.
John: “That’s not fair.”
You exhaled slowly, sinking into the chair across from the empty one he was supposed to fill.
“Fair,” you murmured. “You want to talk about fair now?”
“What’s not fair is making plans with me and not showing up. Again.”
A longer pause. So long you wondered if he’d just… left the conversation altogether.
John: “So what, you’re breaking up with me over one missed dinner?”
You stared at the words, a strange calm settling over you.
“One?” you said softly. “Is that what we’re calling this?”
Your fingers hovered over the screen, then moved with quiet certainty.
“No, John.”
You glanced at the clock one last time, then your gaze shifted back to the message.
“I’m breaking up with you over all of them.”
This time, when the typing bubble appeared, you didn’t wait to see what it would say. You set your phone face down on the table, reached across, and finally blew out the candle.
The room fell into a softer silence, no less quiet, but somehow no longer waiting.
——————
thank you all for being so patient with me ! as i get back into the groove of writing my style should improve tremendously , and sorry no happy ending today LOLZ
“You just going to stare at that lady, or are you actually going to say something?” Cassidy’s sudden comment makes John jump—he’d nearly forgotten he was sitting there. What was supposed to be a short break had stretched on the moment he’d spotted you across the park, sitting alone with your head buried in a book. The sight of you had rooted him to his seat, as if moving were no longer an option.
Cassidy follows his gaze and lets out a low chuckle. “Unbelievable,” he mutters. “That’s her, isn’t it?”
Her. It says nothing but everything at the same time. Everyone had heard , John’s “true love”, the one that got away. It had been nearly 20 years and John still felt his heart flutter just looking at you.
John doesn’t answer right away. He’s too busy watching you—how you sit exactly like you used to, shoulders slightly hunched, one leg tucked beneath the other, like the world is something you’d rather observe than step into. For a moment, it feels like nothing has changed. Like he could walk over, drop into the grass beside you, and you’d look up with that familiar smile and say his name like no time had passed at all.
But time has passed.
Years of it. Different schools, different lives, conversations that faded so gradually he hadn’t noticed they were gone until it was too late. Still, the feeling never left. It lingered through every almost-crush and every late-night “what if,” patient and persistent.
“You could just say hi,” Cassidy says, his tone quieter now. “Not exactly a high-risk move.”
John swallows, fingers tightening against his knees. Hi feels too small for everything he never said—and too big for someone he hasn’t spoken to in years. What if you don’t remember him the way he remembers you? What if you do?
As if on cue, you turn the page of your book and glance up. Just for a second. Your eyes sweep the park, then stop.
They land on him.
The pause is brief but electric. Recognition flashes across your face—your brows lifting, your posture shifting—and suddenly the air feels charged.
John exhales.
“Yeah,” he says under his breath, already pushing to his feet. “I think I will.”
John hesitates for half a heartbeat before taking the first step, like the ground might give out beneath him if he moves too fast. Cassidy watches him go with a knowing look but stays behind, mercifully pretending to be far more interested in his phone than whatever happens next.
You’re still looking at him when he crosses the grass. Not staring—just watching, cautious and curious, like you’re trying to place a memory that refuses to stay still. You close your book slowly, thumb marking the page, and rest it against your knee.
Up close, you look the same in all the ways that matter. Different, too—older, more sure of yourself—but unmistakably you. The realization hits him harder than he expects.
“Hey,” he says, and immediately hates how small it sounds.
“Hey,” you reply, a faint smile tugging at your lips. There’s a pause, not awkward exactly, just full. Heavy with everything neither of you knows how to say yet. “Followed me all the way to New York , huh?”
The fact that you joke with him so easy, as if it hadn’t been years, loosens something in his chest.
He smiles without meaning to, relief flickering across his face. “You wish, that last divorce ran me out of Maryland .” He jokes. “Didn’t think I’d run into you here.”
“Me neither,” you admit, glancing down at your book and then back up, as if grounding yourself. “I didn’t know you were… around.”
“Neither did I,” he says honestly. “Guess we’re both bad at keeping tabs.”
There’s an awkward pause—not uncomfortable, just careful. Like both of you are standing at the edge of something old, trying to decide how close you can get without breaking it.
“You, um,” he nods toward the book, “you still read like that. Like the world disappears.”
You smile at that, smaller this time. “You noticed?”
“Always did.”
The words slip out before he can stop them. He freezes, waiting for regret to hit—but instead, you soften. Your shoulders relax, just a little.
“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You did.”
Somewhere behind him, Cassidy pretends very loudly to be fascinated by a tree.
John clears his throat. “Do you… want to catch up? Maybe walk for a bit?”
You hesitate—not long, just enough to matter—then close your book.
“Okay,” you say. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
~~~~~~
You fall into step beside him, the space between your shoulders close but not quite touching. The path curves away from the busier part of the park, trees filtering the late afternoon light into something softer, quieter. It feels strangely intimate—like slipping into an old rhythm neither of you realized you still remembered.
“So,” you say after a moment, mostly to fill the silence, “what have you been up to all these years?”
John lets out a small laugh. “That’s a big question.” He shrugs. “Putting bad guys away. Distrusting the government. Dismantling the justice system from the inside. You know… life.” You laugh , shaking your head at him. He still had that same ridiculous sense of humor. Then, a little more hesitant, “I thought about reaching out. A lot. Just never knew what to say.”
You glance at him. His eyes are fixed ahead, but his jaw is tight, like he’s bracing himself.
“I did too,” you admit. “I’d see something that reminded me of you and think, I should text him. Then I’d tell myself it’d be weird.”
“Yeah,” he says softly. “Same.”
That earns a smile from you—warm, genuine—and something in his chest loosens. You talk more easily after that. About memories that still linger: scraped knees, shared snacks, inside jokes that somehow come back fully formed even now. Every so often, your hands brush, accidental but lingering just a second too long.
You stop near the edge of the pond, the water reflecting the sky in pale gold. John slows too, then turns to face you. There’s something different in his expression now—open, almost vulnerable.
“Can I tell you something?” he asks.
Your heart skips. “Yeah. Of course.”
He hesitates, then exhales. “When we were kids… I liked you. Like—really liked you. I just never said anything.” He lets out a nervous laugh. “Guess I was scared of ruining what we had.”
For a moment, all you can do is stare at him. Then your lips part, and you laugh softly—not teasing, just surprised.
“You’re kidding,” you say.
He frowns slightly. “That bad, huh?”
“No,” you rush to say. “I just—” You shake your head, smiling now, a little shy. “I had the biggest crush on you. I thought it was obvious.”
His eyes widen. “Wait. You did?”
You nod. “Yeah. I figured you didn’t feel the same, so I never said anything.”
There’s a quiet beat as that sinks in—years of missed chances, all because neither of you had been brave enough back then. John smiles, slow and incredulous, like he’s just been handed something precious he thought he’d lost.
“Guess we were both pretty dumb,” he says gently.
“Guess so,” you agree.
The air between you feels different now—lighter, charged with possibility. He doesn’t reach for you, not yet, but the way he looks at you makes it clear: whatever this is, it’s not stuck in the past anymore.
~~~~~~~~~~~
: I did not proof read this LOL i’m fighting a nasty cold right now so i’m sorry 💔 hope you enjoy !!
‘ I thought that I was dreaming when you said you loved me ’
John grunted as he pulled you out of the car and kicked the door shut with his foot , holding you up by the arm. You had claimed you could handle your liquor, that you were a big girl and didn’t need a babysitter , and he took your word for it. But by your 5th shot you were up on the table doing a hula dance; he was never letting you live that one down.
“I-i can walk!”You shout, slurring your words. He lets go and you drunkenly take a step , but your legs give out and you almost come face to face with the hard sidewalk. John catches you in his arms , rolling his eyes.
“Ouu Munchkin , you’re so strong.”You giggle , ruffling his hair.
“Come on.”He huffs, guiding you up the steps to your apartment and into your home. He pulls your coat and shoes off and carries you bridal style to your bedroom, laying you down on your bed gently.
He heads to the kitchen , grabbing a glass of water that that you’re definitely going to need and sets it down on your nightstand.
He turns to leave when you reach out and grab his hand, the sudden contact makes him flinch.
“Please, lay with me Johnny.”You mumble , eyes still closed. He hesitates , his heart thudding so hard in his chest he fears its might fall out onto the floor . He couldn’t be in such an intimate position with you, he might go mad.
John knew he was hopelessly, irrevocably , wholeheartedly in love with you. He knew it the day he met you, and every day you spent together only reassured that fact. Your laugh , your smile , the way you cared for victims and their families, you could do no wrong.
He hasn’t even seen it coming, and by the time he’d even realized he was in love with you , it was far too late to do anything about it.
He had contemplated telling you, you had a flirty but professional relationship and every now and then you’d say something that would make him think , but he couldn’t tell if you felt the same way about him. He had been hurt so many times he wasn’t sure he could handle another rejection, or the idea of losing your friendship. You were his everything , even if you didn’t know it.
As long as he was quiet about it, he was safe. It didn’t matter if his feelings went unnoticed, as long as he had you. He was beginning to accept the situation for what it was , and this would ruin it. He doesn’t realize he’s been silent for so long until you begin to stir on the bed, whining softly.
Your eyes open slighty , and you look up at him . “Please.” Fuck, you would be the death of him.
He sighs and obliges , kicking his shoes and shedding his own coat before climbing in behind you, but keeping a safe distance. You’re having none of that , you turn and snuggle into his chest. He wraps his arms around you , gently stroking you hair so you’d go back to sleep and he could get up and leave with the last of his restraint.
“John.”you whisper, scooting closer to him and rubbing your head against his chest.
“Yes?” He whispers back , voice cracking.
“I just wanted you to know I love you.” He doesn’t speak for a moment , his breath caught in his throat. For a second he doesn’t even think he’s breathing. Had you actually said it? Was he dreaming? Was it because you were drunk?
Soft snores emerge from your now sleeping body. He looks down and pushes the hair out of your face, kissing your forehead softly. It didnt matter why you said it anymore.
“I love you too.”
✧༺♥༻∞
Ahhh I loved writing this , I was living to Ivy by Frank Ocean and got inspired <3
