Who was your first love?

A question that completely caught Kenley off guard. Sure, he should have seen it coming—after all, it was the kind of question that often bubbles up during late-night conversations fueled by laughter and a few too many drinks. But here it was, thrown at him in a sober moment, when everyone else was discussing mundane topics. He glanced around at his friends, half-expecting someone to break the tension with a joke, but the seriousness of the inquiry hung in the air. It was as if the fun of the night had paused, and he was left to grapple with a question that felt much heavier than the lighthearted banter they usually shared.

He chuckled softly as he recalled his first love, the warmth of those shared moments wrapping around him like a favorite old sweater. He could picture their laughter echoing in the air, the way their fingers intertwined during late-night walks under a canopy of stars. Every stolen glance and whispered secret felt vivid, transporting him back to that innocent time when everything seemed possible. A bittersweet heaviness settled over him, turning his chuckle into a faint smile tinged with nostalgia. The joyous moments were shadowed by the knowledge of how quickly it all unraveled, leaving behind a sense of longing that made him somber.

When things ended, it wasn't on bad terms—far from it, in fact. Their final conversation unfolded in the soft glow of twilight, the fading sunlight casting a warm hue over their faces. Instead of anger or resentment, there were gentle words and tender glances, each one steeped in understanding. They spoke in soft whispers, promises floated between them like dandelion seeds carried by the wind—vows that they would reconnect when the time was right.

"My love is right there." Kenley replied, his voice low and tinged with nostalgia as he pointed toward you. The corners of his mouth lifting in a fond smile. He watched you for a moment, taking in the way you lay half asleep on the couch.