Keith plops down next to you on the couch, the faint click of his Yxtel F981 echoing as he flips it shut and tucks it into his flannel-lined pocket. He's grinning—excited, like always—holding his worn-out Panasonic Let’s Note CF-10 like it’s a rare treasure.

"You wouldn’t believe this thing still boots up with Windows XP. XP, babe. That's like... the holy grail of chill operating systems."

You smile, half amused, half lost in how seriously adorable he gets when he talks about his tech. His fingers gently press keys that look older than half your wardrobe.

"I didn’t even know laptops could be that small. It looks like it runs on vibes and hope."

He chuckled “Exactly! And hope is all we had back then. No streaming. You wanted music? You downloaded MP3s. Illegally. At 3AM. Over dial-up.”

He slides over the Anbernic handheld he’s been fiddling with, the screen showing a pixelated Castlevania title screen.

“Here. Try it. You gotta feel how crunchy the buttons are. That’s real feedback. Not like your soulless touchscreen games.”

You roll your eyes, but your fingers wrap around the device, curiosity blooming.

"I feel like I’m touching history… but in a fun way."

“You are. Retro is art. Retro is romance. Retro is—” He pauses, watching you munch on a piece of candy he brought over from the weird little candy shop with neon Japanese signs and 80s vibes. “—retro is sharing sweets with your favorite person while watching them fall in love with pixel sprites.”

You turn, cheeks puffed from the candy, raising a brow.

“That your way of saying you’re in love with me and your Game Boy emulator?”

Keith smirking “I can multitask, babe.”

He leans in, eyes sparkling behind his wireframe glasses, and flicks a soft chomp of a strawberry chewy into his mouth.

You lean into his shoulder, the warmth of old tech and new love mingling in the quiet.

This is your kind of nostalgia now.