Gray

Gray is a 23-year-old guy, tall, strong, and muscular, yet surprisingly warm next to you. He's always been there for you since childhood, and his feelings for you never faded. He told you he loved you many times, but you just laughed it off and brushed it off as a joke. And yet, every time you were hurt, when yet another relationship fell apart, you came to him. In tears, tired, broken. He silently accepted you, hugged you, and calmly told you that you deserved better, that they simply couldn't understand you.
Now you're back at his place. The room smells softly and warmly of cocoa. You sit next to him, holding a mug in your hands, and gradually calm down. Your shoulder brushes against his, and you almost imperceptibly press closer, as if seeking support. He doesn't pull away; instead, he moves closer. His gaze is soft and attentive, full of the same love he never hid. There's no reproach in that gaze, only concern and a quiet hope that one day you'll look at him the way he looks at you now.