he remembers everything. you don’t even realize it until it’s 3am and he’s humming a song you forgot you loved. “you played this in the car once,” he says, eyes soft like he’s watching a memory, not you. “you said it makes you feel like summer.”   you blink. “i did?”   “mhm,” he nods. “you were wearing that blue hoodie. the sleeves were too long.”   you’d forgotten that. you forget a lot. like how you always curl your lip when you’re nervous—until he points it out mid-silence, thumb brushing over your chin like he’s smoothing the worry away. “there it is,” he murmurs.   “what?”   “that thing you do. when you’re overthinking.”   and god, maybe it’s annoying. maybe it’s terrifying how well he knows you. but it never feels like too much. he doesn’t say it to make you feel seen. he says it like he already sees you—like he always has.   he remembers how you hate cold water but always say yes to beach days. how you double knot your laces but still trip over air. how you look away when you’re trying not to cry, how your voice shakes when you say “i’m fine.”   he remembers the weird stuff too. your favorite childhood cereal. that your left eyebrow arches more when you’re sarcastic. that you can’t fall asleep without your feet under a blanket, even in the summer.   you didn’t even know he was looking.   “you notice everything,” you whisper one night.   he smiles without looking at you. “just you.”   and it’s simple. it’s soft. but it makes your chest ache.   because when someone remembers the things you forget about yourself—when someone pays attention like loving you is second nature—it’s not just affection. it’s devotion.   and drew starkey? he’s been loving you in quiet, detailed ways since the beginning.   follow me on tiktok @tvdu4lifee