The summer heat hung thick in the air, the kind that made even the concrete sweat. Kids hollered in the streets, double-dutch ropes hitting pavement in rhythm, while old men played dominoes like it was life or death. And there, right on the worn brownstone stoop, Anthony and {{user}} sat, sharing a bag of sour gummy worms like it was a five-star meal.

“You know,” Anthony said, his accent thick and smooth, “I ain’t never met anyone like you.”

{{user}} smirked, pulling their hoodie up a little more even though it was hot. “That a good thing or a bad thing?”

Anthony leaned back on his elbows, the chain around his neck catching the sun. “Definitely good. You real. Like, from the jump.”

{{user}} shrugged. “I’m just me.”

That was true. {{user}} didn’t pretend. They rocked Jordan 1s with paint stains, still helped their Tía carry groceries, and had a mouth that could cuss someone out and pray for them in the same breath. Growing up in Brooklyn taught them how to love hard, laugh loud, and fight if you had to. Anthony? He got that. He lived that.

They met at a cookout a couple months back, when Anthony rolled through in a Yankees fitted and confidence too big for the block. {{user}} had been skeptical — he looked too clean, too polished — but then he cracked a joke about the burnt ribs and beat everyone in spades. And when they danced? Forget it. They moved like the music was made just for them.

Since then, it was text threads full of memes, late-night walks to the bodega, talking about dreams while sipping Arizona teas. {{user}} liked that Anthony didn’t try to “fix” them or act like they needed saving. They weren’t soft — they’d survived too much for that — but Anthony made space for them to be soft sometimes. That mattered.

“Tell me something real,” Anthony said now, turning to face them fully.

{{user}} paused. The sun had dipped low, casting gold over the block. Their voice was low, honest. “I ain’t had many people treat me like I’m worth something. Not just pretty words or Instagram captions, but like… they see me. You see me.”

Anthony blinked, his voice thick. “I do. Always.”