Summary
I returned to the day he confessed to me.
The boy sat with his legs crossed, leaning lazily against the back of the sofa, a freshly lit cigarette held between his fingers.
His gaze swept casually around the room before finally settling on the corner.
“Her, then.”
Amidst the dead silence, his voice was neither loud nor soft, sounding utterly flippant.
“Hey, I like you.”