They Called Him a Lover Part 2

Some didn’t see him. Not really. Not in the quiet way he touched his shoulder mid-sentence, or how his voice dropped when they were alone, like love had weight and he didn’t want to break it.

They saw the grin, the swagger, the performance. But not the room where he pressed his forehead against another’s and said nothing for five full minutes.

He doesn’t show what’s his. Not anymore. He learned. That giving it away too freely meant someone would try to own it, ruin it, repurpose it for stories that were never true. This was his story, not theirs.

But he loves. God, he loves.

And this one—
he protects.

Even when they don’t believe he’s capable of it.
Especially then.

They called him a lover.
They didn’t know how right they were.

Just how quiet he’s willing to be
to keep it close.