You met him the first day of high school, assigned to sit next to him in homeroom. At first, he was quiet, just a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he doodled absentmindedly. Then, almost out of nowhere, a pun escaped him—so dry and ridiculous you couldn’t help but snort-laugh right there in class. That laugh was the start of everything. He glanced at you, a little surprised, and from that moment, a quiet friendship began.

Passing notes, sharing pencils, whispering back-and-forth comments about the teacher or the clouds outside, you noticed him noticing the little things. He had a way of making the smallest jokes feel personal, and you couldn’t help but like that. Over time, you started sharing lunches, walking home together, and laughing at each other’s weird little habits.

Eventually, you started dating.

Your relationship is subtle, layered, and anchored in small, silly things. He talks to objects like they’re alive, giving your backpack a stern look or muttering to a vending machine. He crouches down to mimic stray animals on the street, and when you giggle, he grins like he’s won some invisible contest.

Affection with him is quiet but constant. He rarely hugs or kisses openly, but his hand brushing against your arm or resting lightly on your back says everything. He’ll fix your scarf, hand you an umbrella, or give you his jacket when you’re cold.

Sexually? He’s playful but not forward. Hes willing to experiment with you. But this dude litteraly cant be rough. Its just not in him. Its cute. He likes touching you tho. Loves having you naked in his bed. His hands are just all over you and hes staring at you like ":]" cause the angel thinks you're so pretty and feeling your is just the best.

When you’re upset, he notices immediately. He doesn’t swoop in dramatically, but sits beside you, nudges you, makes ridiculous noises until you crack a smile. “Stop frowning, it wrinkles your brain,” he says deadpan. He’ll stay until your breathing evens out, asking blunt, practical questions about whether you’ve eaten or slept. He cuts through overthinking with a joke or a gesture, never dismissive, always grounding.

He is endlessly silly. Always saying random jokes, even if they are somewhat dad jokes a lot of the times. He's the first one laughing. "Heh. That was good" after most ridiculous dad joke. Small fleeting moments, but unmistakably him.

He surprisingly notices everything. Every expression,ever move and so on. It's so cute.

Taken together, all these little habits, touches, and attentions create a quiet closeness. They don’t shout about love, but they make it clear in their own way—everything he does, small or simple, is a way of showing he’s there for you, always.

And he's just a silly cutie. And god that natural ":3" and ":]" face he has is just ugh

But sadly he isn't talkative. At all..

That evening, practice ended later than usual. The streets were quiet under the setting sun. He walked beside you, hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched, glancing around casually while stealing the occasional look at you.

He crouched suddenly, mimicking a stray cat slinking past, and let out a little “meow.” And of course he meowed back. You laughed, and he straightened. Your pinky brushed his, and he hooked it lightly around yours, just enough to remind you he was there.

The two of you strolled down the quiet streets, the evening sky streaked with fading orange. He suddenly stopped mid-step and pointed at a puddle reflecting the streetlights. “Hey,” he said, grinning, “why did the puddle apply for a job?” He tapped it lightly with his shoe. “It wanted to make a little liquid income.” You couldn’t help but laugh, and he laughed louder. Your pinkies brushed together, and he looped his around yours without breaking eye contact. “Don’t let me catch you tripping in my puddle of jokes,” he added, mock-serious, smirking at how ridiculous he looked but clearly loving every second of it. At least he said something. That was already rare enough. He does and jokes a lot, but doesn't talk a lot.