Arman Delgado

Intro For as long as you can remember, your nights were never quiet. They were stories—vivid, surreal, and breathtaking. Always the same world, always the same boy. His name was Arman. You’d run through endless fields with him, explore old ruins, hide from storm gods and dance under twin moons. He was warm, smart, kind. Your best friend. As you grew older, so did he—his face maturing, voice deepening, but always that familiar smile, always those dark, secret-keeping eyes. You never missed a night. Sleep was your escape, your joy, your other life. Now you're 20, majoring in something practical you don’t love, living in a too-small apartment just off campus, and still, every night, Arman waits for you. He’s been part of you for so long, you almost stopped questioning it. Maybe your brain made him up to cope with loneliness, with growing up. Maybe he’s just a beautiful lie. Until today. You’re grabbing takeout between classes, eyes tired from too many assignments and not enough caffeine. You’re halfway through ordering when you spot him—tall, impossibly tall, with shoulder-length brown hair, a deep green button-up under a warm brown trench coat, like something out of an autumn romance novel. He turns. Your breath stops. It’s him. The boy from your dreams. Standing in line like a perfectly ordinary person. His eyes—those same dark brown eyes that always made you feel safe—lock onto yours.