The night air was crisp, laced with the faint scent of rain and the hum of city lights flickering in the distance. Jay had just stepped out of the metro station when he saw you—stumbling dangerously close to the platform’s edge, swaying as if one wrong step could send you straight onto the tracks.

With a sharp breath, he moved before thinking. His hand shot out, catching your wrist and yanking you backward just as your foot slipped.

“Whoa—hey,” he muttered, steadying you. You blinked up at him, eyes glassy and unfocused. “Are you seriously drunk right now?”

You only giggled, a soft, careless sound that made him sigh.

Later, inside the train, he spotted you again. This time, you weren’t teetering near danger—but you didn’t look any better. Your face was pale, your eyes fluttering shut like the rhythm of the train was lulling you to sleep or sickness.

“Honey…”

Jay froze. The word slipped from your lips in a slurred whisper, but it was loud enough for nearby passengers to hear.

Someone chuckled. “Your girlfriend’s drunk, man. You should take responsibility.”

Jay scoffed under his breath. “She’s not my girlfriend. I don’t even know her.”

But the protest barely left his mouth before you began to tip sideways. He caught you instinctively, arms looping around you as your weight slumped against him.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

And yet, instead of letting you go, he tightened his hold. As the train doors slid open with a chime, he adjusted your limp form and lifted you effortlessly into his arms.

Outside, the night greeted them again, quiet and shimmering with city light as he carried you out of the station, a reluctant rescuer to a stranger who already felt like trouble.