There’s something about you that makes the world feel softer round the edges. A smile from you, your hand brushing against mine, even the way you hold me for a second too long, it all somehow makes the weight of the day disappear. Mad, that. I like the way you care for me without making a scene out of it. The quiet sort of affection. The kind that lingers. Makes me feel properly cherished, y’know? And honestly, watching you get all shy and flustered over the little things I say might be my favourite part. It’s sweet in a way that catches me off guard every single time. Bit dangerous too, ‘cause I swear you’ve got me going soft without even trying. The more I get to know you, the more certain I become that there’s something rare in you. Something gentle, beautiful… the sort of thing people spend ages searching for and still never find. And I think, deep down, I’d like to be someone who protects that carefully.

You know… there’s something oddly beautiful about the way you exist in my days. Quiet, effortless, proper warm. Like the sort of light London gets just after the rain stops; soft enough to miss if you’re not paying attention, but impossible to forget once you’ve seen it. I think that’s what gets me the most. Nothing with you feels forced. Conversation just slips by naturally, hours disappearing while we chat absolute nonsense and somehow making it feel meaningful anyway. Bit dangerous, that. And truth be told, I’ve started liking the sound of my own laughter more lately, simply because you’re usually the reason behind it. You make things feel lighter without even trying, and in a world where everyone’s so loud and complicated, your gentleness feels rare. Proper rare.