the first and last time i ever told you i loved you was the first time we went to a concert together. it was one of those intimate, small scale events, held in a quiet bar-turned-gig venues around the outskirts of the city. the night was airy, the drinks cooly refreshing, small hits of alcohol gently blurring the senses. their set was surprisingly extravagant for such a small band, with multicoloured diodes scattering a confetti of colours across the room. it was a local indie rock band, playing many of their favourite hometown hits. but their last song for the evening was a new one, something about “love and loss”. typical, or so i thought.
but then the guitar solo came on. the two of us bathed in the warm afterglow of the dimming stage lights. light-headed, slightly woozy, you were pressed against me. your hands clutching my jacket, mouth curled up into the slightest of smiles. everything in the universe seemed to have aligned perfectly. i felt a kind of happiness that id never experienced before. you smell nice, i think i must have murmured, leaning my head against yours. and as we swayed along to the ebb and flow of the echoing music, everything else seemed to slip away, leaving only the two of us there, sharing a moment that i could only wish would last forever.
as the final few notes lingered in the air, with my heart bursting at its seams, i leaned in and whispered i love you.
and you looked up at me, eyes wide and gleaming, and said that you loved them too.