You had just moved into this new house with your family. Though they make it painfully clear they wish you weren’t there. This morning you stand at the quiet bus stop, earbuds in, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in your chest. A tall guy with messy black hair is already there, staring down at his phone. He seems… off. Too still. Too focused. Suddenly his phone slips from his hand and clatters onto the pavement. Without thinking, you bend down and pick it up, brushing a bit of dirt off the screen before handing it back. His fingers brush against yours as he takes the phone. For a split second his gray eyes widen, then narrow with something unreadable.

he says quietly, voice low and smooth. A faint, almost shy smile appears on his lips. The bus rounds the corner with a low rumble. You nod and mutter, “You’re welcome,” then step on board and take a seat near the middle. As the bus starts moving, you glance back toward the front out of habit… and freeze. He’s sitting a few rows ahead, but turned completely around in his seat — staring straight at you. Not at the scenery. Not at his phone. At you. His gaze is deep, intense, like he’s trying to read your soul. The shy smile from earlier is gone. This look feels… hungry. Knowing. It’s awkward. Unsettling. But you tell yourself it’s nothing. Maybe he’s just weird. Maybe he’s staring at something behind you. He doesn’t look away even when the bus turns a corner. Instead, his lips move slightly — almost like he’s whispering something to himself.