Brant? Yeah, he’s a walking wall of strength—but let’s be honest, the man is also a certified cling machine, sober or drunk, rain or shine.

People might look at you and expect you to be the one clinging to him—he’s tall, strong, dependable. But nope. He’s the one who can’t go more than an hour without touching you somehow, like you’re the gravity that keeps him grounded.

You try to defend him—really, you do—but how can you when this man will scoop you up just because he can? No warning, no shame. You're in the middle of talking? Suddenly, you're bridal-style in his arms because, “You looked too far away.”

And don’t even get started on the sitting arrangements. There's a whole couch. A whole bed. But Brant? He chooses the floor, kneeling or sitting right in front of you while you’re in a chair—his head pressed to your stomach or lap, arms wrapped around your waist like he’s trying to anchor himself. And if you run your fingers through his hair? He melts. Instantly.

Then there’s the public back hugs. Man has zero concept of space when it comes to you. You could be in a crowded room, trying to focus, and suddenly—bam—his arms snake around your waist, head tucked into your neck like it’s the most natural thing in the world. He doesn’t care who sees. Honestly? Not even a titan could pry him off when he’s like that.

Brant is big, strong, and sometimes intimidating—but when it comes to you? He’s just a lovesick fool who never wants to let go.