Chapter 3: The Weight of the Years

The warmth of Taro's embrace still lingered between them as he slowly pulled away, his hands falling to his sides. His black pearl-like eyes searched Elian's face, as if trying to confirm that this wasn't just a dream.

Elian Volkov.

Not on a magazine cover, not on a TV screen, but standing right here—in his home.

Taro took a step back, pressing a hand to his forehead. His mind was still reeling.

"You're really here," he muttered again, as if saying it multiple times would make it easier to believe.

Elian simply nodded, his expression unreadable. "I am."

Taro exhaled shakily and ran a hand through his hair. A million questions fought for space in his head, but not a single one made it out of his mouth.

The silence stretched between them.

Elian, as always, remained composed—patient, waiting.

Taro finally let out a dry laugh, shaking his head. "This is insane. You… you just show up at my house, after all these years?" His voice wavered between disbelief and something heavier—something that made his chest ache.

"I did."

Taro narrowed his eyes at him. "No calls, no messages. Not a single word. And now you're suddenly here like—like nothing happened?"

Elian's lips parted slightly, but he didn't speak right away. Instead, he walked to the couch and sat down with a natural grace, resting his hands on his lap. "I didn't know how to reach you," he admitted. "And I wasn't sure if you'd still want to see me."

Taro flinched. His stomach twisted at those words.

"Of course I—" He cut himself off, his jaw tightening. Did he have the right to be mad? They had both lived different lives. He couldn't blame Elian for disappearing—not when he had done nothing to reach out either.

But still… it hurt.

Taro sat down across from him, elbows resting on his knees, fingers laced together. He studied Elian closely.

He looked different.

Gone was the awkward boy from their childhood. In his place sat a man with an aura of quiet confidence, someone who had seen the world, stood in front of flashing cameras, walked on the grandest stages. But beneath all that refinement…

Was he still the same Elian?

"…Why now?" Taro finally asked, voice quieter.

Elian met his gaze, those emerald-green eyes unwavering.

"Because I kept my promise."

Taro's breath hitched.

A flood of memories crashed into him—two kids sitting under the summer sky, laughing, dreaming about the future.

"We'll meet again, right?"

"Of course. I promise."

He swallowed hard, looking away. Damn him. Even after all this time, Elian still knew exactly how to mess with his heart.

Taro let out a slow, shaky sigh. "You're impossible."

Elian's lips curved into a small, knowing smile.

Taro glanced at him and, for the first time that night, let himself smile back.

Maybe—just maybe—this wasn't a dream after all.