Four in the morning. The world was still asleep, covered in darkness. The sun showed no signs of coming up yet. The air was cold and heavy as the mist hugged the streetlights like liquid smoke.
On a lonely street, a girl was pressed against a wall. Her breath—short, shaky bursts. Three boys surrounded her, blocking all exits.
Boy 1 leaned closer, his tone low. "Oye, what's your name?"
Boy 2 smirked. "Come on, just your number. Don't resist so hard."
The girl's voice was shaky as she tried to speak. "Please... just let me go."
Boy 3 chuckled. "Relax, we're just talking."
A cruel laugh followed—short, ugly, getting too close.
Then, from the distance: soft, steady, and certain footsteps. A figure emerged from the fog—jogging. His hood was pulled up, shadows hiding half his face. The mist curled around him—or maybe it was the chill of the alley as he came closer.
He stopped; the wind held still. His voice cut through the air—low, calm, and dangerous.
Jogger: "Move."
The boys turned. The fog shifted, and as he lifted his head, his face came into view.
Boy 1 scoffed, "What did you just say…?"
The jogger's smirk barely moved. "You all look like you're in your teens," he said, voice calm. "Didn't think hearing was a problem at that age."
Boy 2 growled, taking a step forward. His hand flew out, grabbing the jogger's shirt in a fist. "What's your problem?"
The jogger didn't flinch—jaw tight, eyes locked on Boy 2, steady, unblinking.
"Are you done?" His tone barely rose above a whisper. His hand clamped around Boy 2's wrist—calm, hard, no warning.
With each second that passed, Boy 2's breathing grew shallow, his jaw quivering. He tried to pull free from the jogger's hold, but the pain running through his arm like fire turned the skin of his wrist pale.
"Let me go!" he gasped, the cry cracking into something between fear and disbelief.
"What good will happen if I leave you now?" asked the jogger, eyes locked, tightening his grip.
"I will never come here ever again," he gasped, trying to pull back.
"What…?" questioned the jogger, his dissatisfaction obvious.
The other three pulled back from the girl; they did not dare to defend him, as he was the strongest one among them.
After a small pause, "I will never do it again…" he blurted.
Another stare. Another unimpressed, "What?"
"I'll— I'll never go near any girl again!" he finally shouted, eyes squeezed shut.
The boy's wrist felt a slight relief before he realized his hand was free. Without a second hesitation, he and the other three ran for their lives.
The jogger walked toward the girl and stood far enough to maintain his distance and close enough for she could hear. The girl's lips curled, about to say something.
"Book a cab. I'll stay until it gets here," he said, walking past her and standing at a ten-foot distance.
She nodded, fingers trembling over her phone. After a moment, she managed,
"Can I know your name?" she said. "What is 'Can I know your name'? It should be 'What's your name,' or I should start with a thank you. Oh god! What am I even saying?"
"Jay," he replied in a calm voice, not bothering to ask her name, still not meeting her eyes.
The girl stood frozen, trying to find a topic, but failed. Ten quiet minutes slipped by before a cab rolled to a stop in front of her.
The window slid down.
"Did you book the cab…?" the driver asked.
She hesitated. The man's tattooed arms and unreadable expression made her pulse trip. Still, she forced the words out.
"Yes, it's me…"
She took each step slowly, one after another, each one heavier than the last.
"Do you want me to come with you?"
A voice made her stop mid-step. She turned back. Jay was looking straight into her eyes—the first time he had really looked at her.
She opened her mouth, closed it again, nerves tangling her tongue. Then the dam broke.
"Yes… Please! If you don't mind…"
Jay walked past her and pulled open the back door, making it an obvious invitation for her to get in. Her eyes brightened as she climbed into the car. He moved to close the door when her voice caught him.
"Can you… can you sit here?" she asked.
"If you want me to," he said, sliding in beside her and making sure to keep some space between them.
As the cab pulled away, her eyes kept drifting his way, each glance lasting a bit longer than the last. She didn't even realize she was looking at him.
Jay didn't turn his head—only his eyes shifted. When he looked at her, in that still moment, it said more than words ever could: curious, steady, unguarded.
"Looking that tasty to you…?" he said.