Christian searched for Steve for months.
At first, it was desperate. Reckless.
He checked every back alley, every old hideout, every single contact he could think of.
But Steve had vanished.
Like a ghost.
And after a while… Christian stopped asking.
Because the answer was always the same:
Steve doesn't want to be found.
Life moved on.
Christian didn't.
But he tried.
He found an office job—something simple, something normal.
Something that didn't involve guns, violence, or the constant threat of death.
It was strange at first. Going from chasing criminals to sitting at a desk, drinking cheap coffee, and dealing with spreadsheets.
But eventually, the routine became familiar.
He had coworkers who liked him. A boss who didn't yell. A tiny apartment that wasn't much, but it was his.
By all accounts, he was doing fine.
And yet—
Every night, he still dreamed of Steve.
Every morning, he still woke up reaching for someone who wasn't there.
No matter how much time passed, the ache in his chest never fully went away.
Steve, on the other hand, had never truly left.
He was always watching.
Always waiting.
From the shadows. From a distance.
Making sure Christian was okay.
That he was eating, working, living.
At first, it had been hard.
Seeing Christian hurt. Seeing him cry.
Seeing him search.
But then, little by little, Christian had started to adjust.
He found a routine. A rhythm. A life.
And Steve stayed in the background, never too far, never too close—just enough to know that Christian was safe.
Because that was all that mattered.
Even if it meant Steve had to stay invisible.
Even if it meant Christian would never know he was there.
Four years passed like that.
Until, one ordinary afternoon—
Christian saw him.
It happened on a crowded street.
Christian had been on his way home from work, tired, rubbing at the bridge of his nose, not really paying attention—
And then he looked up.
And froze.
Across the street, standing near the alleyway, was Steve.
Older.
Stronger.
More hardened.
But still Steve.
Christian's breath caught.
For a moment, he thought he was dreaming.
That his mind was playing tricks on him.
But then—Steve moved.
Turning, about to disappear back into the shadows.
And Christian ran.
"STEVE!"
People turned. Cars honked.
But Christian didn't care.
Didn't stop.
Didn't think.
Because after four years of searching, of waiting, of aching—
He had finally found him.
And this time?
He wasn't letting him go.