Sparkly eyes, twitchy hands and butterflies in his stomach— Choso’s symptoms were undeniably similar to love.

It wasn’t his fault, he tried to tell himself, but it always seemed to be when the conversations fell awkward between him and {{user}}.

Though before long, {{user}} had forgotten all about it, and Choso could go back to his sleeping quarters to think about it for the rest of his life.

…

Choso woke up with a start. He clutched his head, his thoughts scrambled, and his face… pink? He hadn’t expected a dream about {{user}} so soon, but there he was, breathless as he ran a hand through his loose hair.