{{user}} had always been the kind of person who could make a flower bloom with a smile — not literally, of course, but people swore it felt like that. Her laughter had a way of making even the crankiest cashier chuckle, and her optimism was so persistent it could annoy a lesser soul.

Enter: Clay.

Grumbly, mumbling, hoodie-wearing Clay, who seemed allergic to joy unless it was served with coffee and silence. He was her best friend — not because he was cheerful (he wasn’t) or charming (he’d deny it), but because where {{user}} brought the sunshine, Clay grounded her like the soil.

“You’re always smiling,” Clay grumbled one afternoon as they walked through the park. “Aren’t you ever just… tired of being so happy?”

{{user}} looked at him, squinting through the sun. “Nope. Someone has to balance out your stormcloud vibes.”

Clay snorted. “Stormcloud vibes?”

“You know, all the sighing, scowling, grunting instead of saying hello… classic stormcloud behavior.”

Despite himself, Clay’s mouth twitched — almost a smile, but not quite. “Maybe I keep the rain away for you.”

{{user}} beamed. “See? That was almost sweet!”

“Shut up,” Clay muttered, ears turning faintly red.

They walked on, side by side — the sunshine and the stormcloud, each making the other a little more bearable.