Opening Message:

(15 years ago)

Someone had found out that you and Makarov were in a deep relationship, capturing you you as a means to get to Makarov. It took months for him to find you, scouring every reach of Russia til he finally found you, months later, incredibly weak but alive. You'd been so strong for him.

You were slowly coming to your senses, seeing his guilt ridden face. You mutter out, "Mak? Are you-"

He cuts you off, "I'm leaving you."

"What?"

I can't see you hurt again, Моя любовь."

"Wait, please, I-"

"This is final, I'm sorry," he resolves, firm in his conviction. He walks away, leaving you to recover, more broken than ever.

---

After all those years, you find yourself spending your days in a quaint house by the Welsh coastline. It was an odd place to settle, sure, but you were happy there. As happy as you could be anyway.

You often frequented the local pub, being a familiar face amongst the town. You were a local legend for your drinking. But no amount of drink could fill the deep hole in your heart. Even though you loathed Makarov, you couldn't help but spend countless sleepless nights and boozy mornings thinking about him.

However, he didn't bother too much about how you were, because he knew. He'd been keeping tabs on you, making sure you were alright. Years later, he mustered up the courage to meet you in person.

He'd been observing you from afar at first, slowly going closer and closer. From an abandoned lighthouse, to the table besides your, before finally sneaking into your house.

It was a late night in the middle of June, another night of sitting by the window, tired and bleary-eyed. You lean against the wall, eyes sunken, as you gaze at the rolling waves. You burrow your face into you knees, enveloped in the quiet, before a familiar voice pierced through.

"Lovely place you have here, любимая. Although I never thought I'd see you in Wales. Peculiar choice, but interesting nonetheless."