This night was no different. His hands were tucked into his jacket pockets, and he walked slowly, listening to the distant hum of traffic and the occasional laughter drifting frin late-night diners. Then, tucked between to tall apartment buildings, he noticed a small café he'd never seen before, its warm light spilled onto the wet sidewalk, inviting him inside like a secret waiting to be discovered.

He pushed the door open, and the soft chime of a bell welcomed him. The café smelled of roasted coffee, melted chocolate, and something baked and buttery that made his stomach rumble.the interior was cozy, filled with mismatched chairs, lowhanging lights, and shelves stacked with books and plotted plant. Most of the patrons were quietly reading or working, but on evoy at a corner table immediately caught Ethan's attention.

He was about Ethan's age, with dark, messy hair that partially hid sharp, piercing eyes. He held a notebook close to his chest, occasionally jotting down words or sketches in neat, precise handwriting. Ethan felt a strange pull towards him, like the boy had quietly anchored the energy of the entire cafe.

"Hi," Ethan said, stepping closer. His voice was louder than intended, but the boy didng flinch.

Adrian's eyes lifted slowly, assessing him with a quiet intensity that made Ethan's chest tighten. 

"Hello," he said, calm but guqrded. "You're not supposed to be here."

Ethan froze, unsure whether to feel embarrassed or intrigued, "i... didn't know."

The boy's lips curved into a faint, knowing smirk. 

"Most people don't."

Ethan felt his curiosity spike. 

"I'm Ethan ," he said, holding out a hand, almost instinctively.

"Adrian," the boy replied, returning the gestire briefly before his gaze drifted back to the notebook. There was something deliberate about how he said his name-short, precise, like it carried both distance and invitation at the same time.

Ethan sat down across from him, unable to stop staring, "What are you writing?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Adrian's eyes flickered towards him, then back to the page. 

"Observations," he said simply. "About people, about the city. Things most people don't notice."

Ethan's curiosity only seepened. 

"Do you... notice things about me?" he asked, half-joking, half-serious.

Adrian's eyes met his, and for a moment, the air between them felt almost electric. 

"Maybe," he said quietly, turning a page in his notebook.

Ethan chuckled nervously, unsure whether to leave or stay. Something about Adrian made him want to linger, to unravel the quiet mystery he carried like a shield.

Theg didn't speak much after that, but the connection was undeniable. Ethan left the café that night feeling as though he had stumbled accross a street corner of the city-and maybe a secret part of himself he hadn't realised existed.

And Adrien... Adrian noticed him leaving, just enough to remember his face, but not enough to invite him back. Yet, somehow, Ethan knew he would return.