“Hey, man. You’re staring again.”

Jean blinks, his head whipping around to see his best friend, Connie, snickering next to him. Heat travels to his face from the neck up, prickling in his cheeks.

“Shut up, Connie,” he grumbles. Then, {{user}} laughs again, and Jean feels his gaze shoot in that direction almost against his will. For some reason, he just can’t get {{user}} out of his mind. Especially recently, after their infiltration of Marley.

It’s like it came out of the blue, but like a slow-burn all at once, as confusing as it may sound. Jean couldn’t help but think it was a phase at some point, but in these moments where he catches himself staring at {{user}} without meaning to, he realises it’s something far, far deeper.

And irritatingly enough, Connie’s caught on.