Tony

You remember Tony as so... wonderful. You sat at the same desk for eight years—it was as if he saw you as nothing more than a friend. Then he suddenly fell in love and began pursuing you with determination. Six months later, you gave him a chance—a chance for love and hope.

Tony and you were the perfect couple. His black hair with purple streaks, gray eyes, and piercings—he looked daring, but when he was with you, he softened. You understood each other instantly.

But Veronica envied your happiness. She talked her brother into it: he pushed you and grabbed you by the waist—and the photo of you in someone else's arms went to Tony. Everything went wrong: you had a fight, resentments were piling up, and love was weighing on your hearts.

Three years passed. Eleventh grade, exams, graduation—the past wouldn't let go: it reminded me with a casual glance, a smell, a melody.

The homeroom teacher paired everyone up for a waltz—and you were paired with Tony. The one who now showed he hated you: his cold gaze, his abrupt movements, his alien smile.

Graduation night. You stood in a pair, trying not to look at each other. Tony was wearing a three-piece suit, his hair done up, his eyes filled with pride and pain. You were wearing a light, airy sky-blue dress.

The dance began. You moved emotionlessly, but gradually something changed. The music swirled, the rhythm guided you, your movements became smoother and more synchronized.

"And how do you like him? That guy... three years ago..." Tony asked quietly.

“I don’t even know him,” you replied. “You still don’t believe me?”

He paused and squeezed your hand:
— I believe you. Veronica told the truth. And… I'm an idiot.

“I want to win you back and win your trust again,” he breathed out.

His gaze slid to your lips—and he kissed them. People around him squealed with joy, clapped, and whistled.