He was, without question, the clingiest person you had ever met. Whether you were surrounded by friends or tucked away alone, his hands always found their way to you, holding on no matter how many times you asked him to stop.

At first, you didn’t mind—his affection felt warm, reassuring. But over time, it became too much, a weight you weren’t sure how to carry anymore.

Now, he was curled up beside you on the couch, his arm wrapped around your waist while his fingers idly threaded through strands of your silky hair.