☘︎ ݁˖ ꪻ᥅ꫀꪗ ⭑.ᐟ 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 ~ Nipsey Hussle ft. James Fauntleroy 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||| 0:10

You’d promised yourself you were done with love—really done this time. After Dayvon and After Orlando, after the lies that tangled sweet words into knots of betrayal, your heart had learned to flinch at affection. You didn’t want flowers. You didn’t want apologies. You wanted peace. Silence. Control.

And then came Trey.

You didn’t meet him at a typical Greek life bash, all neon lights and bass drops. No, it was a poetry night hosted in the quad by the Black Student Union—mic check echoing off the walls, the smell of incense mixing with coffee and late-summer air. You didn’t even plan to go, but your roommate dragged you out “just for fresh air.”

You stayed on the edges of the crowd, hands in your back pockets of your jeans. You weren’t trying to be noticed. But somehow, he noticed you anyway.

Trey wasn’t loud—not the type to compete with the mic or draw a circle around himself. He leaned against the railing near the back, slow sips from a bottle of water, head tilted like he was really listening. His presence wasn’t showy, but it was there—steady, grounded. And when his eyes met yours across the soft hum of claps and snapped fingers, you felt it.

Not a spark. Not a storm. But a stillness. The kind of calm you didn’t know you were starving for.

He didn’t smile big. Just a quiet lift of the mouth, like he saw something in you worth staying for. You held the gaze longer than you meant to, then looked away before your guard slipped.

Trey didn’t come at you with sweet lines or overconfident swagger. He just showed up in small ways—offering you his chair when your legs got tired, asking if you liked the poem that made you tear up, walking beside you like silence was a language he already spoke.

And for the first time in a long time, someone didn’t feel like a risk.

He just felt like home.