The first time I saw him, he was crying.
Not loud. Not shaking. Just still — like someone who had given up even on pain. He sat alone on a crumbling balcony two floors above me, legs pulled to his chest, hood up, shoulders hunched like he wanted to disappear into himself.
It was raining. Not the hard kind. Just that soft drizzle that makes the whole world feel like it's whispering.
I was only passing by. Backpack on one shoulder, headphones in. But something told me to look up. And when I did… I saw him.
He didn't notice me watching. His head was bowed, and his hands gripped the metal railing like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to hold on… or let go.
I stood there, frozen. I didn't know him. Didn't know his name, or his pain, or what had driven him to sit there alone in the cold. But I felt something.
A pull. Like the world had drawn a line between the two of us — and somehow, I'd just crossed it.
"Are you okay?"
I don't know why I said it. He couldn't hear me. My voice barely made it over the wind. But I said it anyway.
He didn't answer. He didn't even look. Just wiped his face with the sleeve of his hoodie and pulled his knees closer.
And that's when I made a decision that would change everything.
I took the stairs.
I didn't have a plan. I didn't know what I was going to say, or how he'd react, or if he'd tell me to leave him alone.
But some things don't wait. Some people are standing too close to the edge for you to just walk away.
So I climbed. One floor. Then two.
Until I stood in front of a rusted metal door with peeling paint and a sticker that read "Room 27."
I knocked once. Silence. Then again. Still nothing.
I almost gave up — but then I heard it.
A soft, shaky voice from the other side.
"…Who is it?"
"I'm nobody," I said honestly. "I just saw you on the balcony… and I got worried."
There was a long pause.
Then the door creaked open — just a little.
And there he was.
Daniel.
His eyes were red, his lips chapped, his voice barely a whisper.
But even in that moment — even with the sadness all over him like a shadow — I thought…
He's beautiful.
Not the usual kind of beautiful. Not polished or loud. But the kind that hurts to look at. The kind that makes you want to stay.
"Why do you care?" he asked.
It wasn't angry. It was real. Like someone who had been invisible for too long, and didn't know how to handle being seen.
I looked at him and said:
"Because someone should."
And that was how it started. Not with love. Not with sparks. Just a boy, a broken voice, and a moment that held more weight than either of us could understand.
I didn't know then that Daniel carried secrets. That people whispered about him in school hallways. That he had scars — not all of them visible. And I definitely didn't know that being close to him would cost me everything I thought I knew about myself.
But I stayed anyway.
Because he was crying…
And I was the one who saw it.
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