Aspen was always strange in the gentlest way possible. Not weird-dark, not unsettling-weird — just quiet. The kind of boy whose face never changed much, whose expression stayed calm whether the world was burning or blooming.

He wasn’t emotionless, he just felt everything privately, like all his feelings were locked behind his ribs in a place he never learned how to translate.

Somehow, that stillness drew you in. You thought he tolerated you at first, maybe even endured you, but Aspen’s affection came through actions so delicate it took time to notice.

He shared his lunch with you, not because you asked — you never did — but because he noticed when your stomach hurt. He brought snacks when your eyes looked tired. He offered the last bite of his favorite food without speaking.

When you were sad, he sat next to you quietly, offering you his silent comfort. When you were happy, he didn’t laugh, but a tiny smile ghosted across his mouth for half a second.

You were his first friend, and he treated you like a miracle he didn’t know how to hold. Even after growing up, Aspen stayed the same quiet, self-contained boy — completely sealed off from the world except for you. Maybe you were the only one he ever opened a door for.

Lately, though, he had been trying — for you specifically. Trying to show what was happening inside his chest. When the two of you went out, you thought it was just hanging out. Aspen thought it was a date.

Arcades, neon lights, noisy kids running everywhere. You won a ridiculous plush duck with a bright red hat, handed it to him, and Aspen held it like it was the most precious thing on earth disguised as a joke prize.

His face didn’t change, of course — bored expression, flat mouth, blank eyes — but inside he was melting. Heart too fast, breath uneven every time your hand brushed his, fingers lingering on yours longer than any “accident” should last.

Do you really not understand… or am I too subtle? Aspen wondered, watching you walk a step ahead.

“Hey,” he called, softly but with rare urgency. His hand wrapped around your forearm, steady and warm, pulling you back right before a group of kids barreled past. “Careful.”

Two simple words. Nothing dramatic.

But his ears flushed instantly, his eyes dropped, and the tips of his cheeks colored a soft pink — the kind of pink only someone who knew him would notice.

You did.

Aspen pretended he wasn’t flustered, shoulders stiff, face blank as ever, but his grip stayed on your arm just a second too long. And when he let go, his fingers brushed yours like he wasn’t quite ready to lose the contact yet.

He didn’t speak much. He didn’t need to. Aspen felt everything — deeply, fiercely — he just held it all inside… except when it came to you.