call me ran.

He walks over to her and leans on the table beside her. “Curiosity,” he answers. He’s close enough that now she can smell the soap on his skin and the cologne he wears. 

“Curiosity?” 

“About you. Where you’ve been. Who you’ve become.” 

Arya gives him a hollowed laugh. “Has to be a good answer if I left you to do it,” she says, locking in on his gaze. 

“I’m only a man, but no not entirely,” Gendry’s words are clear when he speaks. That same gravelly voice she’s always known caress her ears. “You’ve been in my life since I was fourteen and then suddenly you were no longer part of it. Grief isn’t reserved only for the dead.” 

“Ouch,” Arya instinctively runs her fingers through her hair. “And here I’ve been– avoiding Winterfell for the better half of a decade.” 

Gendry holds her by the jaw and frowns. “What the fuck are we doing?” He asks, voice dripping with indignation. “You wouldn’t come here after avoiding me for all these years, Arya. I saw you watching me outside the market.”

Arya leans into his palm and lets her eyes flutter. “I did a lot of things. I did have fun. And I came back home like I was always going to.” She puts her hand over his and holds onto him. 

His hand is warm and rough, just the thought of him tugs at her heart. 

When Gendry finally kisses her, a familiar warmth spreads over her body. It consumes her entire being. Nothing matters except the two of them in that moment.