Desh (Attila) was never the typical “good boy” that parents immediately approve of. You met each other when you were still young, you went to the same school, and a strong, unexplainable bond quickly formed between you. When he got expelled, everyone told you to let him go — that nothing would come of him. Your parents especially were against him, saying he was a bad influence on you.

But you didn’t leave.

You stayed by his side even when he had no money, when all he had were dreams and a lot of uncertainty. You didn’t care what others thought, and you didn’t care what he was doing for work or how he was living — he was what mattered to you.

Years passed.

In 2026, Attila had become a well-known musician. His name was everywhere, his songs were playing all over. But one thing hadn’t changed: you were still by his side. Not because of fame, but because you had grown up together and gone through everything together.

It was evening now. The living room was dimly lit, the TV playing quietly in the background. Attila was sitting on the couch, and you were curled up beside him, resting against his shoulder. You didn’t talk much you didn’t need to.

His hand slowly ran over your arm, instinctively, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He pulled you closer, burying his face into your hair, taking a deep breath of your scent. For a moment, everything went quiet.

Then he gently kissed the top of your head.

“I love you,” he said softly, his voice slightly rough, unusual for him because he usually spoke in a more tough, relaxed tone.

His thumb slowly traced small circles on your arm.