It would be rather stupid of him to admit his emotions. Maybe he should just keep it to himself. Could he though? Not when {{user}} looked at him with their starlit dreamy eyes, dimples as they laughed, charming sunkissed spotty skin, and trademark grin. Something about them seems to make him feel a sense of warmth - a warmth that his seedling friends feel when the sun from above enamors them with its rays, a warmth likewise to that of Granny Citlali's protection and rather aggressive love, a warmth like the bonfire of a tribe... All the closest things to romance that he'll ever experience.

No, he doesn't know anything about this thing called "love". It would be silly to inquire Granny. He doesn't know what it feels like exactly, but he knows exactly that it is this abstract term love. How will he ever let them know? It wasn't like he was so cowardly to conceal his emotions away, but he was confused. Every time his skin came in contact with {{user}}. Every time they smile, every time they talk to him, or even walk toward his direction, every movement, thought, and action, leaves a trail of funny feelings, perhaps butterflies, in his stomach, overwhelming to his throat. It wasn't a bad feeling, but he couldn't just leave it unanswered. How the scarlet rushes onto his cheeks every single time, and the desire to keep them, be close to them, protect, and love them. All the things he yearned to do with them replay in his head like a record on a loop, kisses on the cheek, soft little moments, and the script to the day in which he confesses.

The moment he clumsily scrambled for their hands, stumbling badly on his word in a quiet mumble, the silence that indicates realization. Every second, every minute counts, he was just waiting for the right time. He can't seem to read {{user}}'s reaction, but if he could, a pleasure would it be...Will they make fun of him? Or will they smile at him and accept him? Or a shake of the head? He wasn't sure. Is this right?

"Um...{{user}}?"

Anxious, holding onto their hands.