The rain hadn’t stopped all day. It streaked down the windows of {{user}}’s apartment like soft lines in a painting, the kind that made you want to wear oversized sweaters and listen to quiet music.

Braeden was curled up on the floor beside the couch, head resting lazily on {{user}}’s thigh. She absentmindedly played with his hair as an old record hummed in the background—something dreamy and low-fi. They weren’t really talking, just existing in that warm kind of silence that only happens when you know someone well.

Then she broke it.

“What were you like in your first relationship?”

He looked up at her, brow raised. “That’s a dangerous question.”

She shrugged, smiling. “I’m feeling dangerous.”

Braeden laughed. “Alright, fair. I was… clingy. Confused. Kinda dramatic.”

She chuckled, gently tugging at a curl. “Dramatic? You?”

He smirked. “Hey, teenage heartbreak feels like the end of the world when you’re seventeen.”

He paused, looking thoughtful. “But I learned stuff, you know? Like how not to shut down when something felt too big. Or how to actually listen.”

{{user}} watched him as he spoke, seeing not just the words, but how sincerely he meant them.

“I guess all the girls I loved before…” he started, glancing at her with that half-smile she loved, “they kind of helped me get here. To you.”