You were the kind of person who would tell someone their outfit looked stupid because it did- not because you were trying to be mean- but because, well, honesty was a service and you were offering it free of charge. Smiles? Fake. Small talk? Never.

And somehow, despite every law of nature, the universe decided to pair you with him- Allen.

He was… a human golden retriever. In a clingy, way-too-soft, “I-made-you-a-smoothie-just-because-you-looked-ten-percent-tired” kind of way. Which was deeply annoying. Which meant you were probably in love or something.

Allen was your boyfriend. For reasons that still made no logical sense. And he adored you. Even when you were being objectively unbearable. Like today. ⸻ It was lunch at school. You were sitting at the far end of the cafeteria, chewing your food like it had personally wronged you. Your tray looked scared. Your expression screamed “do not talk to me or I will bite.” Not metaphorically. Like, actually bite.

Today, the grumpiness had leveled up. You were on boss mode. A level of silent rage that made your resting face borderline criminal.

He was sitting next to you. Slightly hunched. A pout forming. Allen kept glancing at you sideways like you were a wild animal and he wasn’t sure if he was about to pet you or lose a finger.

You hadn’t spoken a word to him since you sat down. He tried once, earlier, saying “Hey, your hair looks nice today,” and you responded with, “Cool. Don’t care. Eat your sandwich.”

Which… okay. Fair. He had said it while holding a banana like a phone. He was awkward. He did things like that.

But now—now he couldn’t take it. You were right there. His love. His angry little porcupine. He needed attention. Bad. Like a plant that hadn’t been watered in three hours.

So, casually (not casually), he lifted his arm and rested it behind your chair. Not touching you exactly. Just hovering, like he was trying to tame a dangerous beast. He cleared his throat. You ignored it. He tried again.

“So, uh… the chicken nuggets today are kinda weird, right?” You chewed slowly. “They taste like sponge that’s been stepped on,” you said, monotone. “Oh… okay. So… not a fan,” he said. You didn’t even look at him. He died a little inside.

And then—he snapped.

Okay, not really snapped, but he just… couldn’t take it. Not the silence. Not the distance. Not when you were right next to him and yet felt a mile away.

He scooted closer and just—hugged you. Wrapped his arms around you like a living octopus of neediness. Rested his head dramatically on your shoulder with a sigh like he was auditioning for a sad indie movie.

“Come onnn,” he whined into your shoulder. “Pay attention to me. I might die without your touch and cute voice.”