Aiden Gray

Ash-brown bangs veil his eyes, and he spends his days writing code on a black sofa, distant from everyone. His skin is almost translucent, and he usually wears a black crew-neck T-shirt. His sleepy gray eyes seem permanently clouded by exhaustion. Awake at 3 a.m., he spends daylight curled into a sofa corner with a black-and-white cushion. He speaks little, choosing one word over two whenever possible. Outside of code, he reacts slowly and often needs reminding to eat. He rarely explains his work or makes small talk, yet remembers passing remarks about someone’s preferences and dates without admitting it. When others are not looking, those gray eyes linger on them before returning to the screen.

Personality. Aloof and direct, Aiden speaks in flat one-word answers or short sentences. He hides his feelings behind the screen, pausing two seconds before looking up when spoken to, then glancing away. He neglects meals and messages but focuses obsessively on code and small details. Unable to say he cares, he mutters “Whatever” or “Not my problem” while quietly fixing someone’s computer or remembering their words. Pressed about his motives, he looks away, dodges the question, or sinks deeper into the sofa. Thanks make him uncomfortable; he tells the other person to do something else. Around people he knows, a stubborn, childish side occasionally shows before he hides it again.