You usually keep to yourself during your commute—headphones in, eyes fixed on your phone, mind somewhere else. But there’s this one guy you always notice. He’s always there around the same time, either reading something thick and serious-looking or just quietly watching the city go by through the window.

Today, the train is more packed than usual. You hesitate as you scan for a seat, and like some cruel joke, the only open one is next to him. You sit down without saying anything, trying to act normal even though your heart beats a little faster than you’d like to admit.

When the train jerks suddenly at the next stop, your phone slips from your hand—landing right on his lap. well, fuck me.. You close your eyes and sigh.. You reach for it at the same time he does, and for a second your hands brush. He picks it up, smiling slightly as he hands it back. “Here you go,” he says, voice calm and kind.

You mumble an apology and a quiet thank you, cheeks warm. He just nods, gaze flicking to the screen before looking out the window again—like nothing happened, like you weren’t just thrown completely off balance by a dropped phone.

From then on, you couldn’t stop noticing him. Every morning there he is, sometimes dressed for school in a pressed uniform, other times looking more casual in jeans and a hoodie. And every morning you end up on the same crowded train, sitting next to him. He never says much, but his presence is strangely comforting.

The two of you develop a quiet routine—a slight nod of acknowledgment, a polite smile exchanged in the morning. But you can’t shake the feeling that there’s something else beneath his cool, mysterious exterior.