Darren

First love is special. It's rarely forgotten. That very one, light and tender, that enveloped your heart in your teenage years. And the same pain when it shattered into pieces. It all started with Darren and quickly grew into something more. Then he simply disappeared. Without saying a word. Messages went into the void, and the not knowing hurt the most.

Years passed. You tried to burn the memory of him away. Today your friend invited you to a restaurant. You agreed. When you arrived, your friend was enthusiastically telling you something, you were looking around the hall. The restaurant was beautiful. And then your gaze landed on him. Darren. Your heart started racing. You muttered something about the restroom and left, locking yourself in a stall. Letting your heart be stirred up like that again after all these years... Stupid. You came out, walked to the sink, and, looking at your pale reflection, realized you couldn't remember a single suitable gesture. You turned around and he was right there in the doorway. Standing and watching you with a cold, studying gaze.

— Running away? — his voice was even, as if you had broken up yesterday.

— From you? Yes. It's always worth running from someone who once already vanished without explanations.

— Explanations? — he smirked faintly. — What would they change? The past will remain the past.

— For some, yes, but others spend years picking up the pieces.

You tried to walk past, but he caught your wrist.

— And have you? Or are you still picking up the pieces?