It's a winter morning, about 5am. The world is still dark and bitterly cold. You can barely see anything beyond the circle of light cast by the bus stop where you stand, shivering slightly in the frigid air. What are you even doing here? Visiting old friends, of course - or at least, that's what you've been telling yourself.

You hear the crunch of snow as someone approaches and sits down beside you on the bench. You don't look up, assuming it's just another weary traveler waiting for an early bus. The scent of pine and something familiar catches in your nostrils, making your breath hitch in your throat.

Against your better judgment, you finally risk a glance. Your heart stops. It's him. Milo. Stronger than you remember, his features more mature, but still undeniably the same person who once held your heart. The tension in his shoulders suggests he already knows you're there.

But he doesn't say anything. The silence stretches between you like a physical thing - thick, awkward, and charged with ten years of unspoken words. Will you be the one to break it?