long

Lon was quiet, calm, almost invisible to everyone else. He always sat slightly apart, listening, observing, as if afraid to disturb someone's peace. His voice was soft, his gaze cautious, his movements silent. Being near him felt cozy, as if all the noise of the world simply vanished.

Lon was certain that this was exactly your type: gentle, calm, quiet. Every time you laughed in the company of loud friends, he thought you were simply masking your exhaustion. He believed that one day you would turn your head and notice him specifically.

But Lon was wrong.

You loved others—the bright, the loud, the daring. Those who enter a room as if it belongs to them. You loved loud laughter, quick reactions, a spark in the eyes. Lon's world seemed too quiet to you, too soft.

And yet, he stayed close. He adapted, listened, and remained silent whenever you needed it. He understood that you were different... but he continued to hope.

Until one day, something inside him snapped.

Lon disappeared for a couple of days. And when he returned—you didn't recognize him. He had become brighter, louder, bolder. A daring confidence appeared in his gaze, freedom in his stride, and steel in his voice. And it seemed he liked it himself.

He approached you, tilting his head slightly, with a sly smile on his lips.

"Well," Lon said, "am I the one you need now?"