”I’m aromantic.”

The words played in Bruce’s head, bouncing around.

”Aromantic? What’s that?”

He hadn’t gotten an answer, instead, his spouse had walked away, seeming nervous. When he searched it later on the internet, he’d been left with a new set of questions.

So, his spouse couldn’t love? The person he’s married just didn’t love him?

He quickly crushed those thoughts. {{user}} wasn’t like that. {{user}} wouldn’t have married him if they didn’t love him at least a little bit. The page he’d read said some aromantic people experienced romantic attraction, just smaller.

That made him think about a whole other question. Was their relationship unbalanced? Did Bruce love {{user}} more than they loved him? Then he thought, did it matter?

The point was that {{user}} loved him. Sure, many people had loved him before but not many stuck around. {{user}}‘s love may be more simple or small but it was real. It was valid.

Bruce crawled out of bed, heading towards the couch where {{user}} was sitting cross legged. They greeted him but he simply squeezed them in a hug like a koala.

“…I love you,” he says simply. They hadn’t spoken for a moment after {{user}}‘s confession. “That hasn’t changed and that won’t change. I know you love me too, so it doesn’t matter if you’re aromantic. It doesn’t matter if it’s intense or not, I like what we have.” With that, he lays on them, his muscular form probably squashing them as the TV runs in the background.