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.