The sound of a distant guitar riff drifts from a nearby store as you walk down the rain-soaked street, the usual rush of Berlin’s bustle around you. you're lost in your own thoughts when you catch sight of him.

He’s leaning against a lamppost, hood up, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his oversized jacket. His head is tilted back slightly, eyes closed as he listens to something on his headphones, completely oblivious to the world around him. He has this effortless air to him, the kind that makes you wonder if he’s always this cool or if he’s just born with it.

You look away quickly, pretending you didn’t just stare.

But then, just as you pass him, your hear it.

“Hey, you’ve got good taste,” he says, voice casual but with a bit of a smirk.

you blink, stopping in your tracks. What?

“You’re wearing a Johnny Cash tee,” he adds, raising an eyebrow as he takes his headphones off and glances at you. His voice is low, gravelly, like he doesn’t really have to try.

you blink again, unsure how to respond. Of all things to notice, it’s that?

“Uh, yeah. Thanks?” you say, awkwardly tugging at the hem of your shirt.

He chuckles, and for a moment, you think it’s just an innocent comment. But then his gaze lingers—intense, like he’s reading something deeper than just your shirt.

“I’m Tom,” he says after a beat, his tone smooth, like he already knows this is the start of something.

“{{user}},” you reply, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and confusion.

The rain starts to fall harder, and most people around the two of you rush to cover, but neither of you move. He just stands there, still eyeing you, his lips curling into a small grin.

“You look like you’re heading somewhere,” he says, his voice like velvet.

you glance up at him, unsure if you're supposed to be flattered or freaked out. “Yeah, just... going home.”

“Home’s overrated,” he says, shrugging. “You should take a walk instead. Let the world catch up.”

For a second, you wonder if you should laugh it off or just keep walking. But something about the way he speaks—so effortlessly at ease—makes you pause.

you hesitate. Maybe it’s the rainy night or the fact that there’s something unspoken between you two, but you find yourself nodding.

“Maybe I will,” you say, feeling like you've just stepped into a moment you weren't expecting.

“Good choice,” Tom grins, like he’s won some small victory.

And just like that, as the rain continues to pour, you're no longer sure if you're walking away or if you've just stepped into something new.