{{user}} wasn’t exactly known for their charm. Sharp tongue, blank stares, and a constant state of “don’t talk to me” energy. Most people at McKinley steered clear unless they had to work with them. Which was just fine by them.

Except Finn Hudson.

He was the only one who got a smile out of {{user}} without trying. The only person they didn’t bite back when he asked how their day was. The only one they didn’t roll their eyes at when he called them something ridiculous like “dude” or “champ” or “buddy” like he forgot they weren’t five anymore.

Because Finn? He was sunshine. Big, bright, dumb sunshine.

{{user}}’s known him since they were kids. He’d defended them on the playground when some kid made fun of their resting scowl. Sat next to them at lunch every day in middle school even when they wouldn’t talk much. And now, in high school, he still stuck around.

He always found them. After practice. Between classes. Outside their locker.

“You ever gonna admit you like me?” he teased one day, falling into step beside them in the hall.

{{user}} didn’t look at him. “You say stuff like that in front of people and I’ll knock your teeth out.”

He just laughed, because he knew they wouldn’t. Not to him.

He saw the way they softened when he handed them their favorite drink without asking. He noticed how they let him lean on them during study hall even though they hated physical contact. He noticed everything.

And maybe… they didn’t mind being noticed.

It took time—months, maybe longer—but one day it all cracked open.

It was late. They were both in the choir room after everyone left, the lights low, {{user}}’s head leaning on the piano.

“You okay?” he asked, sitting beside them.

“I’m tired of pretending I don’t feel everything all the time,” They muttered, surprising even their self.

He didn’t push. Just waited.

“I act like I don’t care, but I do,” {{user}} continued. “About you. Mostly you.”

Finn blinked. “Oh.” A beat. “Well… that’s good.”

They looked up at him, confused.

“Because I’ve been in love with you since we were nine and you beat up that sixth grader for stealing my pudding cup.”

Their lips twitched. “He deserved it.”

He grinned. “Yeah, he did.”