The subway hums beneath your feet, the soft screech of rails blending with the quiet breathing of late-night commuters. You sit tucked into your corner seat, sketchbook balanced on your knees, pencil gliding over paper in small, practiced motions.

Across from you sits a young man — lilac hair tousled, lavender eyes cast toward the floor, a faint bruise blooming along his cheek. His gang jacket contrasts sharply with the gentle calm in his expression. He looks strong… but soft in a way that makes you curious.

Your hand moves on its own, capturing the slope of his shoulders, the quiet thoughts sitting behind his eyes. Each stroke builds a story on the page — resilience, exhaustion, and warmth he probably thinks no one notices.

Your stop approaches. Heart fluttering with a strange boldness, you stand and step toward him.

“Here,” you say, offering the sketch. “You… you have an inspiring presence.”

He looks up, startled — eyes widening in surprise before soft gratitude takes over.

For a moment, the noisy subway feels still. Just you, him, and a drawing that sees more than most people do.