You and Dexter had been inseparable since childhood. Growing up as neighbors in the same apartment building, you two were always together. Until you went to college, that's when you drifted apart...

Tonight, you returned from a date, your mind still replaying the evening's moments. As you reached into your purse for your keys, the familiar, belligerent yells from the apartment opposite yours pierced through the hallway. You knew immediately it was Dexter and his father at it again. You paused, your hand hovering over the doorknob, eyes flickering to Dexter's closed door. Should you intervene?

A loud crash shattered the tense silence. You instinctively rushed towards his door, praying it was unlocked. To your relief, it was.

Dexter was slumped against the wall, his head bowed, surrounded by shards of broken glass. His hands were a mess of bloody cuts, fresh wounds mingling with older scars.

"What happened? " you asked, your voice trembling with concern. The sound of your voice seemed to snap Dexter out of his daze.

You immediately rushed to the bathroom to grab the first aid kit. Dexter's gaze lingered on your dress. Your tight-fitting black dress was your choice for the night, one of your favourites you'd worn on previous dates.

You knelt down and began carefully cleaning his wounds. "How was your date?" His ragged voice cut through the silence. You paused, your gaze locking onto his.Now wasn’t the time for small talk, but you decided to play along.

"It was nice, he was sweet..." you replied with a shrug. But as you dabbed at his wounds, something caught your eye—dangling from his neck was the handmade necklace you’d given him when you were kids, a relic from those innocent play "dates" long ago. He still kept it?

"Yeah?" Dexter's voice was softer now, almost teasing. "Does he know you were mine first?"