The school's weekend camping trip had brought the entire 12th-grade class to the edge of a dense pine forest. As night fell, the air grew crisp, and the smell of woodsmoke filled the clearing. While most students were huddled around the main bonfire, loud and laughing, Lucifer and Nancy found a smaller, quieter fire near the edge of the camp.
The orange flames danced in their eyes, casting flickering shadows against the trees.
"Tell me about America," Nancy said, breaking the comfortable silence. She was hugging her knees, the silver chain around her neck catching the firelight. "Was it as big and lonely as it sounds in the movies?"
Lucifer poked a stick into the embers, sending a shower of sparks into the dark sky. "At first, it was just... loud. Everything was too fast, too bright. I spent my first two years in New York looking at the ground because I didn't recognize the sky. I kept looking for that specific shade of orange we used to see from the sandbox."
Nancy leaned her head against her knees. "I stayed right here. Same city, same streets. But without you, the playground felt like a graveyard. I stopped going there when I turned ten. It hurt too much to see the sand getting washed away by the rain, knowing I was the only one left to guard the castle."
Lucifer looked at her, his expression softening. "I tried to be angry at you, Nancy. I told myself you were the one who stopped writing. It was easier to be cold than to be heartbroken."
"We lost fifteen years because of a few stolen envelopes," Nancy whispered, a tear tracing a path down her cheek.
Lucifer reached over, his hand covering hers. His skin was warm, a stark contrast to the chilly night air. "We lost the childhood, Nancy. But we're here now. We're in the same time zone, under the same stars."
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, smoothed-out piece of paper. It was a polaroid photo, yellowed with age, showing two blurry children laughing in a sandbox.
"I didn't lose everything," he said softly.
Nancy took the photo, her fingers trembling. As the fire crackled between them, the "lost years" didn't seem so vast anymore. The sparks flying into the night looked just like the stars they used to wish upon—only now, they didn't have to wish for each other to come back. They were already home.