You were kids when he first got butterflies. It wasn’t anything big. You had just laughed about the stupidest thing in the world, and it lit his insides up like a roman candle.

The next instance was when you two were sixteen. It was summer vacation and you came to swim one day. All of that skin, and the way it glistened under the sun rays was enough to give him a nosebleed.

Now, it’s watching you on stage. Under those neon lights, singing your little heart out while strumming the strings of your guitar. Your skin glowing with sweat. Christ, you are just ethereal. If only you were his and not your stupid boyfriend’s. He could be a lot better boyfriend than him.