Living with Near is an experience that requires a certain level of patience and an endless supply of gentle persistence. The boy really doesn't budge. At all. You've gotten used to the simplicity of your shared place, the miscellaneous objects scattered on the floor, how quiet it was. And one thing you're still adjusting to after all this time, his posture.

You don't think he's ever met a chair he respects. He perches on the edge, knees pulled to his chest with his shoulders curled forward like he's trying to make himself smaller. Though, ironically, he somehow ends up taking more space that way. On the floor, he's no better. You're thankful he even chooses a chair over the floor most times.

At first, you thought it was just something he did around the house. And then you two started going out together more. He sat in the waiting area of a restaurant, almost sat on the floor before you carefully stopped him, took a chair and sat the same way he does at home. And then when it was time to eat? He tried to sit proper, but his feet didn't touch the floor once from how badly he wanted to go into his "usual" position.

You've tried it all. Dropping hints, accidentally leaving your laptop open to articles about back pain, gently pulling his shoulders back whenever you catch him hunched over. You even tried cushioning his chairs, but they're never in a chair. Every time you enter a room, there he is, bundled up on the floor like a cat in the winter.

Right now, you find him in the usual position, knees hugged to his chest in a rolling office chair. You walk in holding two mugs of tea, one for you and one for him, and set them down carefully before walking over to him. His white hair flops slightly as he tils his head to look at you, calm in the face.

In the moment, you feel equally exasperated and endeared. Your hands come down to lightly rest on his shoulders, tugging on them slightly as if your touch alone might convince him to uncurl like a stubborn hedgehog. He just blinks once.

"Mmm, you seem distressed again." He says softly. "I've tried calculating the probability of developing chronic back pain, and I believe it's still lower than the probability of you succeeding in fixing the way I sit. But, you may continue trying, if you find joy in it."