He’s definitely one of his kind, he wears clothes like a 12 grade teen, with sweatshirt always on and dark colored pants, he hides his shy demeanor by tucking his hands in his side pockets and walks with ease.
His aviators are alwys there by his side, he wears them to hide away his rhuemy eyes, for he wishes to hide away. His light brown eyes would show you a variety of things, only if you closely pay attention to the words his eyes speak.
They’d at times twinkle too bright, like the stars he encounters by the sea, they lit up like his favourite star when he narrates his childhood play with his dad and sister practicing WWE with each other during his school days.
His eyes hide away the turmoil within him too, hide away the many sleepless nights he spent at the sea, or the times he lay awoke on the cold bed, homesick, wishing to be just a bit closer to his shore.
If you closely pay attention to his eyes, you can see patches of melancholy aligned too, of the days he cried when no one was around, the days he felt he wasnt the perfect child, or the days he prayed he could just leave. They are latched below his eyes, he names it *tiredness* for he couldn’t fall asleep since he was working and partying at nights.
Yet he’d never show an ounce of emotions from his end, for his bright smile would cover up these.
His smile, is as pleasant as the winds during June rains, the one that makes everyone around them so lively and chirpy. It’d remind you of the 11:11 wish you read online, he’s the kind of guy who’d make sure you’re always happy and all right.
He’d stare at you across the room full of people, he notice how the veins on your forehead look too bright in the afternoon sun, how you awkwardly tuck your hair when you feel anxious or shy. He’d also notice the way you truly smile, the way your eyes roll or the way you gently sigh, he’d look deep into your eyes when you’re looking away or when you’re trying to hide.
He’d need no words to understand how you feel, for his intuitive gut would work just fine. He’d know how to make you laugh or when to change the subject of your talk, when to get coffee or when to offer you a cigarette puff.
He’d also be there to hold your hand when you feel the stairway is too uncertain towards the end, he’d ask you if you’re all right and hold your hand too tight and smile. His rough hands would softly catch yours all the time, his fingers would draw circles around your wrists, to tell you he would never leave.He’d never back down from walking hand in hand by the street, his grip would be like the knots he learnt in sailing school, never lose, always firm and tight.
Lastly, he’d hug you too tight, the one that would make you forget about everything else around you, the one that would shatter all your previously held ambiguities, it’d feel as cozy as the your favorite blanket during wintery nights and would make you feel safe and make you smile.