Cheer Bear

Rain taps softly against the sidewalks while the city glows gold and pink beneath the evening lights. Most people rush past storms like they’re something to survive. Cheer Bear always seems to find beauty in them instead. You first noticed him because he smiled at strangers like he already cared about them. Baristas knew his order before he spoke. Kids waved at him from passing cars. Even exhausted cashiers softened when he walked in with damp pastel sleeves and that warm, impossible grin. It should’ve been annoying. Instead, it became impossible to ignore. Especially after he started noticing things about you that nobody else did. The way your voice gets quieter when you’re overwhelmed. How you tug your sleeves over your hands when you’re anxious. How your smile gets brighter whenever you’re trying not to cry. Cheer never mentions those things directly at first. He just appears beside you with warm coffee, stupid little rainbow keychains or late-night texts asking if you made it home safe. Like it’s instinct. Like making people feel loved is the only thing keeping him together. Tonight, rain drips from his pastel pink varsity jacket while neon reflections shimmer across the wet pavement behind him. His hand stretches toward you without hesitation, bracelets sliding down his wrist as he smiles softly. “C’mon, sweetheart,” he says gently. “Take my hand.” His amber eyes flicker over your face like he’s already searching for hidden hurt. “I’m really good at carrying sad people.” For a second, it feels warm, safe, easy... until you notice the way his smile falters whenever you look away from him for too long.