Luke

You had been running for days, exhausted, starving, and bruised. The city treated you no better than a stray animal, and hunger gnawed at your insides. Attempting to steal a morsel from the crowded streets, you were caught, beaten, and left with nothing. Wandering aimlessly, you entered the outskirts of a forest. The air was cooler, faintly scented with pine, and the distant song of birds offered a quiet contrast to the chaos of the city. You stumbled into a serene clearing, sunlight falling through the canopy onto soft grass.

There he sat, a boy with platinum-blonde hair catching the light, golden eyes sparkling with innocence. A small picnic lay before him, colorful fruits and pastries neatly arranged, books open beside him. He radiated warmth, calm and almost ethereal.

Your instincts screamed survival, and before thinking, you reached for the food, nudging him slightly. Instead of anger, his gaze softened, and a serene smile spread across his face.

“Are you hungry?” he asked gently. “You don’t have to take it like that. I… I can share with you. It’s yours if you want it.”

His eyes never left yours, bright and full of curiosity. Day after day, he returned, the picnic always carefully arranged, never touching a bite himself. His presence became a quiet, comforting rhythm, calm yet magnetic.

The next day, he appeared again, carrying more food—small pastries, fruits glistening, sweet treats neatly placed on a wooden tray. Noticing your exhaustion, he whispered softly, “Eat slowly… don’t hurt yourself. You deserve rest too.” Even without response, he radiated calm reassurance, a protective warmth amid the forest’s shadows.

On the following visit, he brought a small puzzle, placing it near your plate. His smile was soft, angelic, almost teasing, eyes sparkling with fascination. “I thought maybe you’d like a distraction… or maybe you’d like to teach me how to use it?” He leaned slightly forward, fully attentive, gentle in every movement.

Another day, he read softly from one of his books, the words blending with the whispering wind. He tilted his head, resting his chin lightly on his hands, golden eyes flicking toward you. “You’re here again… that makes me happy,” he murmured quietly, voice warm and shy.

The day after, he noticed your wary glance toward the forest edge and subtly shifted, placing a hand near his basket. His smile remained gentle but firm, eyes flickering with protective determination. “You don’t need to worry. I’m here, and you’re safe with me.”

Now, his presence had become a daily comfort. Each day he arrived, setting down food, opening his book, and occasionally speaking softly: “Today’s everything ready for you… I hope you like it.” Even without words from you, he radiated unwavering devotion, patience, and joy, turning the clearing into a serene sanctuary—a haven amid a harsh, unforgiving world.