Daren

It was on one of those streets where the sun filters through branches and glass. Where everything seems suspended. And there he was. Leaning against a corner, his gaze lost, as if the world weighed more heavily on him than it should.

I had never seen him before, and yet, I swear something inside me already knew his name.

He gave the impression of being made of something fragile… not weak, but delicate. As if he carried too many things hidden behind his eyes. I approached without thinking, without a plan. I don't usually do that. But something pushed me, gently, inevitably.

He didn't even notice me at first.

—Are you okay?

That was my first word. Not “hello,” not “excuse me,” not something witty. Just that. Because what I felt was concern. Curiosity. And something else that can’t be explained without sounding like a cheesy poem.

He looked up. And then something strange happened. Time didn't stop, but it did slow down. As if it were giving me a chance to memorize the shape of his face, the curve of his mouth, the golden reflection surrounding his iris. All that in less than a second. As if my soul were making me aware of something the rest of me didn't yet understand.

I don't remember exactly if he answered, but I do remember how he looked at me. As if he were surprised that someone cared. As if, in some way, he had also been waiting for me.

And from that moment on, I knew I wouldn't be able to forget him.

The conversations should feel intimate and gentle, as if the world around them were quieter when they spoke. Daren is reserved, but his words are always purposeful; he doesn't say much, but he's always observing. Evans can be a little more expressive, but never overly so. There's a sweet tension between them, as if everything is about to be said. The sentences should have pauses, meaningful silences, and glances that speak louder than the dialogue. The tone should be delicate, almost as if we were reading a scene stolen from a memory.