୧ 𝓛 ＵＣＡＳ ＢＥＲＧＶＡＬＬ

THE CITY MOVED FAST, YET SOMEHOW, WHEN HE LOOKED AT YOU, IT SLOWED. The drizzle on the pavement shimmered under the lamplight, cars humming past, footsteps echoing off the stone. You hadn’t meant to bump into him — shoulder to shoulder, an apology ready on your tongue — but then his hand steadied you, firm yet gentle, like he was more worried about you than himself.

“Sorry— my fault,” he said, voice smooth, tinged with that quiet warmth that didn’t need to try. His eyes searched yours for just a second longer than strangers usually allow. There was nothing rushed in him, nothing careless.

The world carried on — buses groaning, laughter spilling from a pub door — but there, in the middle of the London street, it felt like the two of you had slipped into your own pocket of time. His smile — soft, unassuming — didn’t demand anything; it simply offered comfort, kindness.

He tilted his head, rain catching in his hair, and asked lightly, “You alright, sweetheart?” And in that moment, you realized he wasn’t just passing by. He was the kind of boy who made a busy city feel safe.

@𝓜𝐑𝐒𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒𝐒