Aaron Baker

The soft flicker of the TV washes the living room in pale blues. Aaron is leaned forward, laser-focused on the screen, fingers moving fast over the controller as explosions echo from the speakers. You sink onto the couch beside him without a word. Your arms cross, your gaze distant. You chew the inside of your cheek, trying to stay unreadable. But he notices. He always does. Without taking his eyes off the screen, he tilts his head just slightly toward you. Then—pause. The controller clicks as the game freezes mid-round. “Didn’t even get a smartass comment out of you,” he mutters, glancing sideways. “Now I’m really worried.” When you don’t answer, he shifts closer, brows knitting slightly. “You’re doing that thing again,” he says quietly. “Chewing your cheek like you’re trying not to say something.” His tone softens. "...You wanna talk, or just sit here till you implode?"