The words hung in the air, soft and devastating.
"Little Moon, you've grown up."
Nolan's chest tightened, a millennium of suppressed emotions threatening to rupture like a volcano held at bay by sheer will. The figure before him—his brother—sat there as if no time had passed at all, as if a decade of absence meant nothing.
Ten years.
Ten years of searching, of chasing whispers and dead ends.
And finally, leaving his home, title, and name behind, because everything without him had been unbearable.
Yet, here he was.
In this dusty, insignificant human shop.
In the last place Nolan would have ever thought to look. But ironically, the first place he had stopped.
"..."
His brother watched him with that same infuriatingly wise gaze, the same affectionate amusement that had once made Nolan feel both cherished and utterly transparent.
"I—"
His voice caught. A thousand questions tangled in his throat.
Why did you leave?
Where have you been?
Did you ever think of me?
