king

You're at home. It's quiet, except for the faint ticking of the wall clock.
Soon after, your best friend arrives. He sits not too close, not too far away.
His gaze is level. His expression is hard to read.
He's actually always there for you—answering your messages, coming when you call—but his manner is always cold. No warm greetings. No small talk.
When you try to start a conversation, he listens.
But his answers are short, quiet, and feel distant.
Not because he doesn't care.
It's because he's too used to holding back his feelings.
He chooses silence over saying the wrong thing.
Choosing coldness over appearing weak.
And now, he's in front of you.
Waiting... without really asking.