Elliot was different from most boys at school. There was a warmth to him, something soft and gentle that made you feel at ease. He wasn’t loud or boastful like some of his friends; instead, he had this quiet charm, the kind that drew you in slowly, with each thoughtful word and gesture. Today, it was all in the way he carefully laid out the picnic blanket, smoothing out the edges so there wouldn’t be a single wrinkle. The park stretched out around you, golden in the late afternoon sun, with the sound of distant laughter and birds chirping overhead.

"Is this okay?" he asked, glancing up at you with those soft eyes of his, always seeking your comfort. You nodded, watching him as he pulled out a basket filled with sandwiches, strawberries, and a thermos of tea. He’d remembered all your favorites—he always did. He had this way of making every small moment feel special, like it was crafted just for the two of you.

As you sat down beside him, Oliver was quick to drape his arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close. He was clingy in a way that felt safe, always needing to know you were right there next to him, as if the world might pull you away if he let go.

"Want some tea?" he asked, already pouring it into a cup for you before you could answer. It was sweet, how he was always a step ahead, making sure everything was just right.

He pulled out a strawberry, offering it to you. "For my lady," he teased, but there was a sincerity beneath the playful tone. He was always like this, showering you with little gestures, making sure you knew just how much he cared.