It's been a couple of months since you'd met your neighbor, König. A veteran, as you'd find out. One of the few things he'll openly talk about is his deployments. He's friendly, only with you; his other neighbors rarely get a glance from him. Comes by every other day with a treat, a gift, or some excuse to talk to you. But he's been noticing that you shrug off every compliment— not that you dismiss him; you accept it wholeheartedly. Just assume he's being friendly, and laugh it off. He's not the best with his words, he worries he's not flirting properly and— God forbid— you think he's joking. Maybe he was wrong in thinking that saying things like "You're the best part of my morning" is direct enough.

Though, maybe it has to do with the fact that he only knows you on the surface level. If he knew your roots better, he'd understand he isn't doing enough to be seen as romantic.

Like clockwork, König is at your door. Humming a soft "good morning," he'd offer you today's treat. As you step forward to take it, he leans down. His words aren't enough. His lips meet your cheek; he lingers at the sensation. He doesn't automatically leave like every other day; this time, he waits for any shred of acknowledgment.