Writing by @moustachiopenguin :
If someone were to ask him about his first love, he would lie and say he’s forgotten. He wouldn’t tell them about a boy named Kise Ryouta. He wouldn’t share memories that make him smile and make him ache. He’d pretend not to remember racing hearts and sweaty palms and stolen kisses. There would be no stories about commuting between cities and missing trains home. He’d have nothing to say about locked doors and flushed cheeks or bruised lips.