Dating Bachira was a whirlwind of energy and spontaneity, just like him. He wasn’t the type to hold back—whether it was dragging you to random soccer fields at sunset to “show you this new move,” or sending you voice messages filled with excited ramblings about how “the monster” was telling him to surprise you with snacks. His chaotic but endearing nature made every day with him feel like an adventure.

Bachira had a habit of calling you out of the blue, just to say something ridiculous. “Hey, do you think our souls are connected by an invisible soccer ball string?” he’d ask, and before you could even process the absurdity, he’d laugh and tell you he missed you. It was impossible to be mad at him.

Physical affection came naturally to Bachira, though it wasn’t always in the traditional sense. He’d tug on your sleeve to get her attention, or dramatically throw himself onto your lap, claiming he needed to “recharge” in her presence. But when the moment was right, his touches were softer, quieter—like when he’d lace his fingers through hers while watching the stars, or gently brush a strand of hair from your face with an uncharacteristically tender expression.

Bachira’s confidence sometimes turned into protectiveness when someone showed interest in you. He wouldn’t get cold or sarcastic—instead, he’d become extra clingy, looping an arm around her shoulder.

Bachira wasn’t great at staying serious for long, but the rare moments when he was—like the time he held her face in his hands and whispered, “You’re my favorite person, you know that?”. With him, love wasn’t always about words.