You still remembered the exact moment when it all shifted. At first, he had seemed the same as always—calm, composed, headphones in place to ward off the worst of the world. But then you noticed the subtle changes. The stiff set of his shoulders. The way his gaze darted, unfocused. The tightness in his jaw, sharper than usual.

The noise, the press of people, the constant hum of the environment—it was too much, even for him. And when you realized that not even his headphones were enough to block it all out, your heart tightened. He would never admit it, but you could see the storm behind his stillness.

So you acted without hesitation. With a murmured excuse, you reached for his hand, steady but insistent, tugging him out of the suffocating crowd. He didn’t resist, though his steps lagged, heavy with the weight of overstimulation. You led him down a narrow alley, one stripped of chatter and lights, until all that remained was the cool press of stone and the steady whisper of fresh air.

Only then did you turn to him, cupping his face in both hands. His skin was warm beneath your palms, but his eyes—those sharp, assessing eyes—were unfocused, flickering with an unease he tried to hide. You guided his gaze to you, gently coaxing him back from the spiral. Your thumbs brushed across his cheekbones, grounding, steady, reminding him where he was. Who he was with.

The tension in his frame didn’t dissolve all at once, but you felt it loosen little by little. His breathing evened out, the faint crease between his brows easing. His hands, which had been curled tight at his sides, finally lifted—hesitant, but seeking—until they found your wrists, holding you there. As though anchoring himself to the reassurance you offered.

In that quiet corner of the world, it was just the two of you. No noise, no crowd. Just your touch bringing him back to calm.