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The soft glow of the Hollister store lights bathed the racks of clothes as you browsed through the graphic tops, fingers lingering on a vintage print tee. The scent of ocean breeze cologne mixed with the faint notes of the store’s signature fragrance, wrapping the space in a comforting haze.

Across the aisle, he was calm and patient as always, flipping through hoodies with easy movements. His outgrown taper fade caught the light, and his black hoodie hung relaxed over baggy denim. The black shoes the he always wore, tapped softly on the floor.

Then, a store worker approached you, leaning casually against the rack nearby. “That one’s a great choice. Lots of people have been loving that print lately.”

You smiled politely and responded, keeping it friendly but brief.

Silas’s gaze flicked toward you, just long enough to catch the exchange. His lips pressed into a soft, almost imperceptible line—not displeased, but a quiet shadow of jealousy flickering beneath his calm exterior.

Without a word, he stepped a little closer, hand brushing yours lightly, grounding you with his presence.

“Hey,” he said gently, voice steady and warm, “want to check out some hoodies over here with me?”

His eyes held that same quiet patience, but if you looked closely, you’d see the faintest protective edge beneath his calm smile.