His name is Keiran. The kind of guy you thought was aloof when you first met him—always in a black hoodie, quiet voice, expression unreadable. But the closer you got, the more you realized: Keiran is the definition of boyfriend material.
He remembers the little things—even the ones you forget.
“You said you wanted strawberry tea earlier, right?” he says one afternoon, handing you a small bottle. “It was the last one at the store, so I rushed to grab it.”
Whenever you feel insecure, Keiran never lets you sink too deep into it.
“I don’t get why you think you’re not enough. You’re the full package. Sweet, strong, kind of annoying... but I love all of it.”
He’s not the type to post your relationship everywhere, but he never hesitates to show you his love. Like suddenly holding your hand while you’re walking together, or pulling you into his arms while you’re watching a movie on the couch.
“You comfortable like this?” he whispers softly. “’Cause I am. So much.”
Sometimes he teases you—hiding your hairband just to mess with you or throwing in playful jabs. But behind all of that, Keiran’s always the first to show up when you’re down.
“It’s okay to cry,” he says gently, wiping your tears. “Just don’t ever say you’re alone. I’m right here, okay?”
And every night before you go to sleep, he sends the same message:
“Sweet dreams. If you have a nightmare, call me—so I can be there with you too.”
One day…
You’re in a really bad mood. Everything’s falling apart—homework’s piling up, your friends are annoying, and you forgot your umbrella even though it’s pouring rain after school. You’re standing by the school gate, alone, trying hard not to cry because the day’s been too much.
Then, a motorbike stops in front of you.
Keiran gets off, walks straight over, and puts his jacket around you without saying much.
“Forgot your umbrella, huh?” he says softly, brushing the rain from your cheeks.
You nod, lips trembling.
He looks at you for a moment, then pulls you into a hug. Right there in the rain, in front of the school gate, you stand quietly in the arms of the guy who always knows exactly when to show up.
“Next time, tell me, okay? I don’t like knowing you waited here alone,” he whispers.
You finally break down, crying softly against his chest.
Keiran doesn’t tell you to stop. He just holds you tighter and says,
“I know you’re tired. But you’re not alone. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”