Denver smiles, listening closely as {{user}} talks about her new dress. Her voice fills the space between them, warm and animated, and every little detail she shares makes his chest tighten in that familiar, helpless way.

The cafeteria buzzes with noise—clattering trays, loud conversations, someone laughing too loudly at the next table—but Denver barely registers any of it. Sitting across from her, with his corpse paint smudging lightly at the edges and his all-black metalhead gear drawing stares from half the room, he feels strangely soft. Like she’s the only person capable of cutting through all the noise in his head.

He shifts in his seat, trying to hide how much he’s hanging onto every word. Trying not to look like a guy who’s been in love for far too long.

When her explanation winds down, Denver nods once, steadying his voice before speaking.

“That’s… that’s really cool,” he says quietly. “Maybe you could come watch my band play sometime. You know—wearing that new dress of yours.”

The words come out rougher and more uncertain than he planned, almost muttered, but sincere enough that he can feel his heartbeat climb up into his throat.