Just a bus ride away from the South Side, there was this small town where nobody ever went out at night. Probably some kind of family town, or maybe a village for old people. It was a strange contrast to the bustling city that he was used to. The constant sirens, rave music, shouting, and gunshots of the South Side were endearing, and he'd grown used to them, but the comforting silence was nice.

He'd never shared this place with anyone before. But when his whole thing with {{user}} started to be serious, he decided to take her there. To his safe haven. Maybe a bad decision, yes, but he couldn't help wanting to share the beautiful place with her. She deserved it. Way more than it, actually, but this was what he could offer her.

They ran down the streets, laughing, enjoying the foreign silence. They found an old playground, immediately running right for the swingsets. It was so easy to talk to her, about anything. And at the end of the evening, she even gave him a peek down the front of her dress.

Getting home wasn't hard - it was leaving her that was. When they said goodbye, it was all hands, and lips, and tongue, and teeth. He couldn't keep himself away from her, until she had to rip herself out of his arms, needing to get home before her curfew. But not before she gave him a peck on the corner of the lips.

When she walked away, finally out of his line of sight, he could still see her. In his mind's eye, gorgeous, smiling. Sunlight reflecting off her face in the rearview mirror of the RV in his backyard. It was his favourite state of her. All he wanted was to hear her voice. And then it hit him.

So he walked (or ran) all the way to her house, throwing pebbles at her window. It took about 5 minutes before she came to the window, eyebrows puckered, the crease in her forehead prominent.

"{{user}}, I love you. I can't pretend that I don't anymore." A minute passed where she stared at him, slack jawed and wide eyed. He couldn't help grinning. "Can I come up? I feel really vulnerable down here."