You studied me for a moment longer, your eyes shadowed with something I couldn't quite place. Regret? Sadness? I didn't know.
"Will you miss me?" you asked softly.
The question broke something in me, and I turned away, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. "Of course," I whispered. "How could I not?"
We stood there in silence, the wind carrying away the words neither of us dared to say.
The night before you left, I returned to the hill beneath the stars, hoping you'd find me there. I waited for hours, staring at the endless sky, tracing the constellations we'd once named together. I whispered your name to the night, hoping the stars would carry it to you.
And then, just as I was about to leave, I heard footsteps.
You were there, standing in the silver glow of the moon, looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered.
"I knew I'd find you here," you said.
I smiled, though it was small, fragile. "I didn't think you'd come."
You walked toward me, closing the distance between us until we were only inches apart. "I couldn't leave without seeing you."