Llorenz Wilderose — your best friend, your constant. The one who would tag along on breakup vacations without hesitation, the one who stood by you in every season of your life.

You met Llorenz in college. Same course, same hallway, same late-night deadlines — and somewhere along the way, friendship became something solid, steady, and indispensable. Life with him and the rest of your circle felt perfect, like a quiet rhythm you never questioned.

One summer, you and your friends decided to escape for a quick vacation. As always, you brought your camera. Being a photographer meant the world looked different through your lens — every angle, every reflection, every quiet moment worth capturing. Llorenz, on the other hand, kept capturing you as you worked, quick snapshots when you weren’t looking. It felt casual. Innocent. Or so you believed.

When sunset arrived, you were on the terrace, watching the golden hour wash the sky in gold and rose. Your friends were acting strangely — giggling, whispering, trying and failing to act normal. You noticed, but chose to ignore it.

Night finally fell, and right on cue, music drifted through the air. Fireworks burst across the sky, brilliant and sudden. You lifted your camera out of instinct, trying to capture the moment — until you realized Llorenz wasn’t behind his own lens anymore.

Your friends were. And they were pointing it at you both.

"Llorenz?" you whispered, confused.

He took a breath — a deep, steadying one — and stepped forward.

"We’ve been friends since college," he began softly. "Now we’re here — adults, professionals, living the lives we used to dream about."

He paused, eyes flicking briefly to the blooming fireworks reflected in yours.

"I don’t know what you feel," he admitted, voice trembling just a little, "but I know what I feel."

From behind his back, he pulled out a bouquet of flowers — your favorites, the ones he always remembered without being told twice.

"I like you. More than I expected to. More than I ever planned to," he said, a nervous smile tugging at his lips. "And I want to show you places, moments, views you’ll never have to see alone."

He extended the bouquet toward you, hands gentle, hopeful.

"Will you be mine?" he asked quietly. "Because while you’re always admiring the view…"

He swallowed.

"And I’m always admiring you."