The city lights blinked and sparkled around you as you walked hand-in-hand with Nicholas, the two of you weaving through streets you'd come to know well, each corner holding a memory of whispered secrets and stolen moments. He looked over at you, his gaze lingering, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The warmth of his hand on yours felt like a quiet reassurance, a promise he'd never have to say out loud.
It hadn't been easy, falling for him. You remembered those early days when you'd heard people gossiping, warning you with smug glances and careless words. They called him trouble, claimed he was the type to break hearts and walk away, and they made sure you knew exactly what people thought about girls who went for guys like that.
Deep down you knew that the reason behind people trying to warn you about Nicholas was because those same girls wanted him to themselves. They made you feel like it was your crime for being with him.
The Nicholas you got to know was nothing like their whispers. You saw his vulnerability, the way he laughed at his own bad jokes, the way he held your hand just a little tighter when he thought no one was looking. When you would breakdown due to stress or sadness, Nick would pull you in tighter, letting you know he's there for you, whenever you needed him. He made you feel seen in a way no one else had, like he was drawn to all the parts of you that others had overlooked. He listened when you spoke, really listened, and cared about your dreams, your fears, all the small, invisible pieces of you.
One night, you'd been walking back from a late dinner, the city quiet around you, and he'd pulled you into a darkened alleyway. He looked at you with a smile that held a thousand unspoken promises. "You know they're going to keep talking, right?" he whispered, his forehead resting against yours, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek.
"I don't care," you whispered back, and you meant it. Because with him, everything felt like it was worth the risk. You'd spent so long living carefully, trying not to disrupt other people's expectations. But when you were with Nicholas, all that faded. He was the first person who didn't see you as someone who had to be perfect, who didn't expect you to fit a certain mold. He just wanted you, exactly as you were.
You felt that electricity now, walking beside him as he led you through the familiar streets. His fingers tightened around yours, and he glanced over, the light catching in his eyes. "Do you ever wish things were easier?" he asked softly.
The question lingered in the air between you, and for a second, you could feel the weight of everything—the rumors, the judgment, the looks people gave you when you walked into a room together. There was a world in which things were simpler, where you didn't have to worry about the whispers and the stares.
But as you looked into his eyes, that world felt pale, faded. "No," you said, giving his hand a squeeze. "I'd rather have this with you, even if it's hard, than something easy with anyone else."
His smile softened, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. It felt like you were walking through a dream, the world growing dim and distant around you. You stopped under the glow of a streetlamp, his arm sliding around your waist. The light cast a soft halo around you both, making the moment feel even more surreal.
"You're not like anyone I've ever known," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I don't think I'd know how to do this with anyone else." There was a rawness to his words, a vulnerability that made your heart ache. Nicholas, who everyone thought was reckless, wild, and untouchable, was opening up to you in a way that felt like he was giving you a piece of his soul.
As he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours, you could feel the weight of every whispered rumor, every judgmental glance—but it all felt distant, meaningless. Here, in this moment, you were just two people finding solace in each other, choosing love even if it came with a price. And as he held you close, you realized that the world could call you anything they wanted. They could never understand what it felt like to be held by someone who loved you for everything you were.
He pulled back, his gaze soft, a gentle smile on his face. "Come on," he said, lacing his fingers with yours as he led you further down the street, the city alive around you, but fading as you walked deeper into each other's world.
The two of you wandered until the city began to quiet, the streets nearly empty, the world just yours. And as you rested your head on his shoulder, you knew that no matter how people labeled you, whatever they decided to say, nothing could take away the feeling of being seen, understood, and loved exactly as you were. And with Nicholas by your side, that was enough. In a world of boys he's a gentleman.
