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Miguel’s POV


I awoke in a field. This specific field had a very sort of… ethereal sense to it. Well, that’s the best I could describe it. It just felt like that I guess. The grass seemed to sparkle, or have some sort of sheen. I knew where I was, or at least had some sense of where exactly I was. The last thing I remember before falling asleep for the last time was a long beep. I think my age finally caught up to me, I guess. I looked down at my hands, expecting to see them be wrinkled and bony. They weren’t.


They weren’t wrinkled, and they weren’t bony. They looked young, and healthy. I tilted my head as I looked at them.


I’m a teenager again?


Why am I teenager again? Surely I would’ve been the same age as I was a few hours ago? I looked up and looked around and the scenery around me had changed, it was more foresty now. It almost looked like a place Connor and I used to go to when he was alive and we were dating. Oh… Connor. I still miss him after all these years, even if he’s been dead for many. I never forgot and I don’t think I could. He’s always there, in the back of mind. I always thought that maybe I could’ve done something better. Maybe changed his fate in a way. I’ve dated on and off since then but they never felt the same. Maybe we’ll meet again? My eyes soon caught sight of a man standing off to the side. He was fairly tall, had freckles and shared my brown eyes. It took me a bit to recognize him, since I hadn’t seen him since the work accident. A childlike smile found itself on my face. “Papá!” I said, looking at him. My father chuckled at me and walked over to me.


“Hola, mijo,” he said, ruffling my head. “I take it you’ve missed me?” He smiled and then stood back, glancing behind me briefly. “Though, I think that someone’ll want to see you as well,” he seemed to get an almost knowing look on his face. I don’t know why, if he was talking about Connor, I’m not sure how he would’ve known about him, since he had been long dead before I even knew Connor. So, I felt confused.


“Huh?” The way he’d said that just seemed strange to me. My father looked behind me yet again.


“Turn around, mijo.”


“What are you talk-“ I froze. There, on a bench that had just suddenly appeared, was a dark haired, dark brown eyed guy bent over a sketchbook, seemingly drawing something.




I felt myself tear up. Everything suddenly made sense. The fact I was back to being a teenager, my dad’s weird statement. It all lead to… towards… Connor, just… sitting there. Drawing in a sketchbook. Just like back in high school, where he would never show me what he drew and playfully take his sketchbook away. Just like back when I would run my hands through his hair and tease him. My legs seemed to decide to ignore the stalling my brain was doing as I found myself running towards him before I jumped on to hug him and bury my face in his neck, sobbing. Connor was caught off-guard, obviously, but hugged me back.


“I’ve missed you. So much. S-so fucking much. For years. I just missed you so much. I-I love you,” I rambled into his shoulder. I couldn’t see it, but I sort of sensed that Connor’s gaze had softened.


“I’ve missed you too. I’m so happy that you’re here. Te amo, Miguel.”