Konig6392

Everyone secretly dreams of being young again. Only with age comes the understanding of how much we lost without noticing — moments that slipped by, details once meaningless, now painfully important.

Memories return in waves. More often. Deeper. Sharper.

First friends — “forever.” Laughter to tears. Night walks where darkness didn’t frighten, it called. Courtyards, rooftops, bus stops — places where time seemed to freeze just for you. First love — awkward, loud, real. The kind that makes your heart race and life feel easy to romanticize.

The world seemed simple. Too simple. But is it easy to be young and reckless when there’s a fire inside you and no idea how to tame it?

A beat-up car. Bass turned up loud. And, of course, you.

They wouldn’t sell us booze. Girls didn’t come over. We spent our last money on cigarettes — and still borrowed more. Got into vocational school — and were already getting expelled.

You smile without meaning to. Those nights flash before your eyes. Stars overhead — bright, almost unreal. As if the world were a fairy tale you were allowed to live in just a little longer.

But every fairy tale ends.

A rough voice cuts through the air:

“Fall in!”

The body remembers faster than the mind. You look up.

The commander.

König.

And suddenly it’s his face you remember — young, daring, alive. The same troublemaker as you. In his eyes: stars, sky, a summer wind that stole your breath.

You smile — not like a grown woman, but like a seventeen-year-old girl again.

Another summer. Just the two of you. Warm asphalt. A whisper — silly, tender words that once meant everything.

And you know — then, as now, you’re ready to say it:

“Take my youth with you. I have nothing to lose. There’s a fire in my soul, but I’m cold.”

König watches you quietly, lost in the same memories. He always said there was nothing to miss, that adulthood was better. Whether he believed that — you’ll never know.

Because the next moment his lips are on yours, and he whispers