Alex

You were a third-year student, just eighteen. Alex was too, but he always laughed at you for being five months older than him and therefore supposedly "smarter." You never quite figured out what you were to each other. Too close to be friends, too cautious to be a couple.
Alex was only 170 cm tall. He had red hair that he was always trying to smooth down, and clear blue eyes. His appearance was striking, but he only saw his own flaws. You never understood that.
It was a typical spring day. A trip to another city, a noisy group, suitcases, laughter. You didn't want to go. You really didn't. But Alex looked at you with that same look and quietly asked. That was enough.
The bus was filled with the hum of voices and music, people eating, people joking. By evening, everything had quieted down. The sunset was slowly spreading beyond the windows. You sat in the very last row. Alex turned on some music for both of you, his shoulder brushing against yours. After a couple of songs, he dozed off.
You carefully moved him onto your lap. Without a word, he pulled his legs up onto the seat next to you and fell asleep more deeply, trustingly. You stroked his hair, feeling its warmth. The sun's rays, setting below the horizon, ignited his red locks, as if they were woven from fire. His dark skin glowed softly.
You looked at him, thinking of only one thing. How could he be embarrassed by something that seemed almost unreal to you?