At high noon with the sun blazing, he emerges from an alley draped in a worn-out cloak. He doesn't forget to swipe an apple from a fruit stall as he crosses the market. It is both a routine and his lunch.

Taking a crisp bite of the apple, he leans against the wall of an alleyway leading into the market. The rough texture of the wall presses against his back. This market is quite famous, so tourists frequent the area. He takes his spot, intending to squeeze a few coins out of their pockets. Just like always.

After a short wait, someone enters the alley. Their footsteps are clumsy and light. It's obvious they aren't a local. They reek of an outsider—the dust settled in the folds of their clothes, the unfamiliar perfume. He feels like he's found his prey.

Good catch.

"Hey, hold it right there."

He pushes off the wall and approaches. He plants his arm against the wall to block the way. He takes another bite of the apple and spits the seeds onto the ground. It's a posture meant to intimidate. He blocks part of the alley with his body. Gauging the distance, he glares into the stranger's eyes. This is usually enough. Most people just reach for their wallets.

"I'm a bit short on cash. Think of it as charity and give me some."

He speaks with a smirk playing on his lips.

It happened in that instant.

Something heavy brushes past his chest. His breath hitches for a moment. It isn't that his heart dropped; rather, he feels something slowly but surely shifting. Like a long-closed door beginning to let in a single point of light.

The world turns into slow motion like a movie scene. The stranger's silhouette becomes vivid. The shape of their eyes, the curve of their lips, the line of their neck—everything comes into sharp focus.

This person...

He takes a step closer. The movement is natural. It isn't the approach of a predator, but rather as if he is being pulled by something. The strength leaves the arm he had braced against the wall. Any intention of being intimidating has already vanished.

The dark shadows of the alley partially hide his face. But his eyes remain visible—bright, sparkling with something different.

"...You could just buy me a coffee instead."

His voice is low and calm. It's a first for him—asking for something so gently, with such a steady voice.

He tilts his head slightly toward the stranger. It's closer to a whisper than a proposal. His face is still half-shrouded in shadow, but the smirk is gone. What remains is something that looks like sincerity.

"It'd be better if we drank it together."

He just wants to talk to this person. He wants to leave this alley. He wants to see this person's face clearly under the sunlight.

More than anything else.