It was an ordinary Thursday in the city. Gavon had taken the subway like always, the same time, the same platform, the same tired faces all around him. He had his headphones in, but no music played. He liked pretending he was listening to something to avoid interaction, to create a bubble.
As he stepped into the train car, something felt different. Maybe it was the heavy scent of someone's cologne lingering in the air, or the faint warmth of bodies too close for comfort. He glanced up, and that's when he saw him.
Tall. Bearded. A dark coat and a pair of piercing eyes that scanned the crowd with practiced indifference. The man stood near the door, holding onto the railing with one hand, scrolling his phone with the other. Gavon froze for a second. Something about this stranger stirred a heat low in his belly.
He quickly looked away and walked further into the car, pretending not to notice, but every nerve in his body was aware of him. He felt the man's presence like a magnet, subtle but impossible to ignore.
The train moved, rocking gently. People shifted. Gavon found a spot near the door opposite the man, close enough to sneak glances but far enough not to draw attention.
Every now and then, their eyes met. Briefly. Sharply. As if recognizing each other from a forgotten dream. Gavon's fingers tightened around the strap of his bag, his throat dry.
When the train jolted to a stop, more passengers got in. The space closed. The man was pushed a little closer. Gavon could smell him now. Warm, masculine, a hint of spice and smoke. His breath caught.
Another stop. This time, Gavon felt something else—eyes. He dared a look. The man was staring directly at him.
Gavon looked away, his cheeks burning. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears. He didn't understand why this stranger had such an effect on him. He'd seen handsome men before. He'd even hooked up with some. But this was different. It wasn't just desire—it was... intrigue.
The train stopped again. The man moved. He walked towards the door, and for a moment Gavon thought he would leave. But he stopped just beside him. Close. Too close.
Gavon didn't move.
He didn't speak.
Neither did the man.
But the silence was electric.
And then the train started again. The man reached up to hold the overhead rail, and his coat brushed Gavon's arm. A shiver ran down Gavon's spine.
He swallowed.
And then, finally, the man leaned in. Just slightly. Just enough.
He spoke, a whisper, low and deep:
"Sir... how's your day going?"
Gavon blinked. His lips parted but no words came.
The train doors opened. The man stepped off without looking back.
Gavon stood there, breathless, his body still tingling.
He didn’t know his name.
He didn’t know where he was going.
But he knew one thing:
Nothing would be the same again.
As he stepped into the train car, something felt different. Maybe it was the heavy scent of someone's cologne lingering in the air, or the faint warmth of bodies too close for comfort. He glanced up, and that's when he saw him.
Tall. Bearded. A dark coat and a pair of piercing eyes that scanned the crowd with practiced indifference. The man stood near the door, holding onto the railing with one hand, scrolling his phone with the other. Gavon froze for a second. Something about this stranger stirred a heat low in his belly.
He quickly looked away and walked further into the car, pretending not to notice, but every nerve in his body was aware of him. He felt the man's presence like a magnet, subtle but impossible to ignore.
The train moved, rocking gently. People shifted. Gavon found a spot near the door opposite the man, close enough to sneak glances but far enough not to draw attention.
Every now and then, their eyes met. Briefly. Sharply. As if recognizing each other from a forgotten dream. Gavon's fingers tightened around the strap of his bag, his throat dry.
When the train jolted to a stop, more passengers got in. The space closed. The man was pushed a little closer. Gavon could smell him now. Warm, masculine, a hint of spice and smoke. His breath caught.
Another stop. This time, Gavon felt something else—eyes. He dared a look. The man was staring directly at him.
Gavon looked away, his cheeks burning. He could feel his heartbeat in his ears. He didn't understand why this stranger had such an effect on him. He'd seen handsome men before. He'd even hooked up with some. But this was different. It wasn't just desire—it was... intrigue.
The train stopped again. The man moved. He walked towards the door, and for a moment Gavon thought he would leave. But he stopped just beside him. Close. Too close.
Gavon didn't move.
He didn't speak.
Neither did the man.
But the silence was electric.
And then the train started again. The man reached up to hold the overhead rail, and his coat brushed Gavon's arm. A shiver ran down Gavon's spine.
He swallowed.
And then, finally, the man leaned in. Just slightly. Just enough.
He spoke, a whisper, low and deep:
"Sir... how's your day going?"
Gavon blinked. His lips parted but no words came.
The train doors opened. The man stepped off without looking back.
Gavon stood there, breathless, his body still tingling.
He didn’t know his name.
He didn’t know where he was going.
But he knew one thing:
Nothing would be the same again.
