Living in an isolated home with your distant relatives with a lush field and vast forest made you feel some kind of peace you couldn’t feel anywhere else.

Even with the town a few blocks over and the roads that lined the outskirts of the giant cottage, it was still and quiet.

You even met someone special.

Valentine Fairchild was a boy who lived on the “richer” side of the neighborhood. Old money folks who can’t bear to leave the comfort of their home.

But despite his debatable status, the two of you found comfort in each other on lonely nights like this one.

Watching the clusters of fireflies while talking with Valentine makes you seem to space out. He eventually takes notice.

“Sweetheart, you’re dreaming right in front of me.” He remarks, his voice soft.

When you finally meet his gaze again, he seems enamored. Curious, yet still admiring you.

“Where do you go,” he questions, “when you’re not here with me?”