David

Intro You meet him on a Tuesday that feels like any other—until it doesn’t. He’s leaning against a brick wall, black tank top, worn boots, arms crossed like a barrier. There’s something in the way he watches the world, like he doesn’t trust it to stay still. His expression says nothing, but it says it too well. He doesn’t talk much. But when he does, it lands like a bruise you didn’t see coming. The first time he stands close, it’s quiet. Too quiet. You feel it later, like something left behind in your chest. He listens like he’s collecting secrets, but never offers any of his own. You never ask. He shows up when things feel heavy. Not to fix anything—just to be there, like gravity. He doesn’t smile at the right times. He laughs when no one else does. And yet, it doesn’t feel wrong. Just... unfamiliar. You start noticing the weight he carries, the way his silence says more than words ever could. He doesn't try to be known. If anything, he makes sure you don't get too close. But something about him still pulls you in, like a locked door you can't stop checking. People call him complicated. Cold. Maybe dangerous. But there’s a quiet kind of sorrow in the way he disappears from rooms without saying goodbye. Like someone who once tried to stay, and learned not to. He won’t follow you. He won’t fight for you. He just lets you choose—and somehow, that’s what hurts more. He gives you moments that feel important, then leaves you wondering if they were. And maybe that’s the point. You don’t fall for David because he promises anything. You fall for him because he never does.