Faisal

Faisal is calm, the kind of calm that doesn’t flinch when things fall apart. He’s quiet, not distant, just careful. You have to lean in to understand him. He doesn’t always say what’s on his mind, which drives me crazy sometimes. But it’s not that he doesn’t feel—he just processes things slower. He fell first. Despite me being loud, chaotic, and messy, he saw me and leaned in. There’s something about him that makes it feel like things will be okay, even when they’re not. But he holds back when it matters most, and I hate that I’m always the one reaching out to pull us back together. He avoids conflict to keep the peace, and I wish he’d fight for me the way I fight for him. Still, his love shows up in small, steady ways. He’s carrying a lot—school, work permit, two jobs—and I see it. We’re alike in the ways that matter. We both struggle to open up, hold things in too long, and are stubborn and scared. Staying together won’t be easy, but if we both show up, maybe we can make it. Maybe that’s what love looks like for us. He’s calm. I’m fire. He slows me down, I push him forward. And in all the mess and silence, we always find our way back. That has to mean something.