The next morning, Berlin looked different. Maybe it was the sunlight spilling over the buildings. Or maybe it was me, finally realizing I was really here — away from everything I knew, with Lukas leading the way.
He didn't tell me where we were going. He just handed me a coat, straightened my collar like he was fussing over a little kid, and said, "We're leaving in ten minutes."
Walking beside him through the streets felt… weirdly exposing. The city was alive, people moving past us without a glance, but I couldn't shake the feeling of being noticed. Every shadow seemed sharper, every passerby's glance lingering just a little too long. I tried to tell myself it was just paranoia.
We stopped at a small café tucked between two old buildings. From the outside, it looked normal — cozy, inviting, nothing to worry about. But Lukas's eyes kept scanning the street, sharp, calculating. I tried to sip my coffee casually, but my hands trembled a little.
"You always this tense?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
His gaze flicked to me, sharp and unreadable. "You think I'm tense?"
"I think you're… alert," I said carefully.
He didn't answer. He just stared out the window for a moment, and I had the sudden feeling he was expecting trouble to arrive at any second.
And then it happened.
The café door opened, and a man stepped inside. Tall, dark clothes, eyes that didn't leave Lukas for a second. No hesitation, no small talk. Just a nod in Lukas's direction. Then, as quietly as he came in, he walked out again.
My heart jumped. "Who was that?" I whispered.
Lukas didn't answer right away. He just stirred his coffee slowly, eyes following the man's retreating figure. "No one you need to worry about," he said finally, but the edge in his voice betrayed him.
I wanted to press, but I didn't. Not yet. Some instincts are better left unspoken.
For the rest of the day, I couldn't stop noticing things. The way Lukas moved through the city, alert at every corner. The way he occasionally glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting to see someone. Every small detail made me more aware of how little I actually knew about him.
We walked through narrow streets, past markets where people shouted in German I barely understood. I tried to focus on the sights and sounds — the smell of fresh bread, the clatter of carts — but Lukas's tension was contagious. My chest kept tightening, my mind replaying that single nod from the man at the café.
At one point, Lukas slowed, letting me catch up. "You're asking a lot of questions," he said lightly, but there was an edge to his tone.
"I can't help it," I admitted. "This city, this… everything. It's too much. And you—" I stopped, realizing I was saying too much.
"Me?" His eyebrow quirked up. "I'm just here."
"Yeah, just here," I muttered, though my stomach knew better.
We reached a park by the river, a quiet spot with benches and trees. Lukas sat down on one, gesturing for me to join him. I hesitated, then sat, keeping my eyes on the water instead of him.
"Why did you bring me here?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Sometimes you need to see life outside four walls. Helps keep perspective."
I didn't believe him. Not really.
And just as I was letting myself think maybe this day would end without incident, I caught sight of the same man from the café. Standing across the street, partially hidden by a lamppost, staring. Not moving. Just… watching.
I froze. Lukas didn't flinch. Didn't even glance. But the tension in his shoulders said everything I needed to know.
"See?" he said quietly, his voice low. "I told you. Life here isn't simple."
I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the bench. Being with Lukas wasn't just complicated. It was dangerous. And for reasons I couldn't explain, I didn't want to run.
The next morning, Berlin looked different. Maybe it was the sunlight spilling over the buildings. Or maybe it was me, finally realizing I was really here — away from everything I knew, with Lukas leading the way.
He didn't tell me where we were going. He just handed me a coat, straightened my collar like he was fussing over a little kid, and said, "We're leaving in ten minutes."
Walking beside him through the streets felt… weirdly exposing. The city was alive, people moving past us without a glance, but I couldn't shake the feeling of being noticed. Every shadow seemed sharper, every passerby's glance lingering just a little too long. I tried to tell myself it was just paranoia.
We stopped at a small café tucked between two old buildings. From the outside, it looked normal — cozy, inviting, nothing to worry about. But Lukas's eyes kept scanning the street, sharp, calculating. I tried to sip my coffee casually, but my hands trembled a little.
"You always this tense?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
His gaze flicked to me, sharp and unreadable. "You think I'm tense?"
"I think you're… alert," I said carefully.
He didn't answer. He just stared out the window for a moment, and I had the sudden feeling he was expecting trouble to arrive at any second.
And then it happened.
The café door opened, and a man stepped inside. Tall, dark clothes, eyes that didn't leave Lukas for a second. No hesitation, no small talk. Just a nod in Lukas's direction. Then, as quietly as he came in, he walked out again.
My heart jumped. "Who was that?" I whispered.
Lukas didn't answer right away. He just stirred his coffee slowly, eyes following the man's retreating figure. "No one you need to worry about," he said finally, but the edge in his voice betrayed him.
I wanted to press, but I didn't. Not yet. Some instincts are better left unspoken.
For the rest of the day, I couldn't stop noticing things. The way Lukas moved through the city, alert at every corner. The way he occasionally glanced over his shoulder, as if expecting to see someone. Every small detail made me more aware of how little I actually knew about him.
We walked through narrow streets, past markets where people shouted in German I barely understood. I tried to focus on the sights and sounds — the smell of fresh bread, the clatter of carts — but Lukas's tension was contagious. My chest kept tightening, my mind replaying that single nod from the man at the café.
At one point, Lukas slowed, letting me catch up. "You're asking a lot of questions," he said lightly, but there was an edge to his tone.
"I can't help it," I admitted. "This city, this… everything. It's too much. And you—" I stopped, realizing I was saying too much.
"Me?" His eyebrow quirked up. "I'm just here."
"Yeah, just here," I muttered, though my stomach knew better.
We reached a park by the river, a quiet spot with benches and trees. Lukas sat down on one, gesturing for me to join him. I hesitated, then sat, keeping my eyes on the water instead of him.
"Why did you bring me here?" I asked.
He shrugged. "Sometimes you need to see life outside four walls. Helps keep perspective."
I didn't believe him. Not really.
And just as I was letting myself think maybe this day would end without incident, I caught sight of the same man from the café. Standing across the street, partially hidden by a lamppost, staring. Not moving. Just… watching.
I froze. Lukas didn't flinch. Didn't even glance. But the tension in his shoulders said everything I needed to know.
"See?" he said quietly, his voice low. "I told you. Life here isn't simple."
I swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the bench. Being with Lukas wasn't just complicated. It was dangerous. And for reasons I couldn't explain, I didn't want to run.