⁴𝗝𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗦 '𝑩𝑼𝑪𝑲𝒀 ' 𝗕𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗘𝗦.

He never said forever .

Not because he didn't want to, but because he had learned that forever rarely survives people like him.

I was afraid you would leave when you saw too much—the weight in your gaze, the ghosts that still kept him awake. Afraid you would regret it the instant he kissed you under the stars, when the moon was the only witness to how he gave in just to have something good, even if only once.

But you didn't leave.

You smiled and whispered that he had taken too long, while the moonlight fell upon you both as if it too had been waiting for that moment.

You stayed when his things began to silently occupy your space: the toothbrush on your sink, the shirts on the chair, the crooked mug next to yours. He fit into your world as if he had always belonged there.

Then he made a promise—not of eternity, but of the present .

He chose you every day. He'd come home after missions, smile when he saw you wearing his t-shirts, run his fingers through your hair as you fell asleep on his chest. You were his peace. The only thing that made the noise stop.

That's why you didn't understand when he left.

You waited. Because he always came back.
He promised... didn't he?

Years passed. No calls. No letters. Just silence.
The only proof that he had existed were the memories that still lived on in his apartment.

An urgent knock on the door made his heart stop.
When you opened it… it was him .

Different. Older. Tired in a way that no amount of sleep can cure.

Behind him were others—wounded, bleeding, their eyes filled with alarm and pleading.

We need your help.

It was Thunderbolt, the beginning of everything.