love is quiet and flashy
Love is a different sort of word, albeit a beautiful one. They're friends, not lovers or in love, and when she hugs him and uses that tricky little word, people make mistakes.
"I love you!" she cries as she embraces him.
He grunts in irritation and moves away. An old woman coos something about young love. They're just friends, but it doesn't really matter. He makes her happy, and if people think it's because he's her boyfriend—who cares?
He accepts the heart-shaped box of chocolates without a word of confusion or complaint.
(The best thing is that he understands.)
For my friends.