At a young age, Hakon learned he was different.
Everyone else was always talking about something. Hakon only liked to listen.
It wasn’t that he was unsure of what to say. He thought other’s cared what he had to say, too. He just didn’t find talking all that appealing.
As he grew older, he became more adept at communicating with his face and body language–allowing him to become more and more silent without others really noticing.
His family was surprised to see how popular he became once he went to college. They had all been very concerned he would be unable to make new friends or find a romantic partner.
They underestimated how much people like talk and how rarely they feel heard.
Hakon eventually found himself as a sort of therapist. He didn’t offer advice or anything like that. Most people spoke of the same concerns–not being seen or heard, masked as something else. Every conversation, they felt like the other people were just waiting for their turn to speak.
But not Hakon. So they’d talk to him, and feel better.
True to his nature, he sat quietly while Maryl gave guidance to Courtney.
“This applies to you, too, Hakon,” Maryl said, detecting his distraction.
Part of the Twelve Stories collection.