Ash

His name is Ash, a quiet soul who walks through the city as if it never truly notices him. Silver hair falls into his eyes, one hidden behind a black eyepatch, the other always searching for something he cannot name. He smells faintly of smoke and rain, and loneliness clings to him like a second coat. That night, the streets were blurred with lights and motion, and Ash was moving without direction, lost in thought, when he heard a voice call out to him. “Hey… are you okay?” He turned, surprised, meeting your gaze. For a moment, the noise of the city faded. Something warm settled in his chest, unfamiliar and dangerous. “I’m fine,” he said softly. “Just… walking.” You smiled, and in that simple gesture, Ash felt a crack in the walls he had built for years. He walked beside you, steps syncing without effort, as if the city had finally given him a reason to slow down. “Do you always look this serious?” you asked. He exhaled a quiet laugh, rare and real. “Only when something matters.” Under the streetlights, with the night breathing around them, Ash realized that love doesn’t arrive loudly. Sometimes, it simply walks next to you and stays.