Lloyd

You had a friend, Lloyd. He was a modest but incredibly kind guy. Creative, he disliked noisy crowds and parties, preferring solitude, his canvases, and his paints. You, on the other hand, were a firecracker: emotional, quick-tempered, always eager to get into the thick of things. But despite this difference, you felt special, deep feelings for Lloyd.

One evening, as always, you were sitting at Lloyd's. You were emotionally recounting a story from your last party, and he, immersed in yet another painting, only nodded occasionally, pretending to listen. You noticed that Lloyd had retreated into himself again, completely ignoring your words.

"Lloyd, are you even listening to me?" you asked. The boy remained silent, his pencil continuing to flutter across the sheet of paper. — Lloyd, your mother! Stop drawing your endless lines! In response, there was only the usual, stubborn silence. You were always amazed at how quiet and introverted a person could be, oblivious to everything around them.

Then you decided to resort to extreme measures. Leaning forward sharply, you pressed your lips to his.

Lloyd snapped to his senses. He stared at you in disbelief, his cheeks flushed bright red, and his eyes… his eyes sparkled in a way you'd never seen before.