sunn

It wasn't any of those painful moments you wished you could selectively erase from your memory, even if it meant erasing the last memory you have of him. 

It was afterward, in the quiet, deafening silence. During the hollow moments that felt heavier than the weight of the world, left by the absence of him and the mourning of what could’ve been.  

Because for the past year, your mind has been nothing but a graveyard of your what-ifs; your mind entertained each one even when your heart begged for it to stop.

What if you had stayed as his friend instead?

What if you had chosen to simply remain as the girl who sat beside him during lunch as he discussed rocket engines as if they were his second nature?

What if you had chosen to be selfless instead of selfishly pushing your feelings onto him all those years ago in high school, merely because the silent act of loving him began to hurt? 

Perhaps then you wouldn’t have to bear the weight of losing him entirely—with nothing left of him for you to hold on besides the burning blend of memories that haunted you constantly.

Perhaps then you could’ve remained in his life alongside everyone else, even if that meant cheering and watching him from a distance instead of being right next to him.

If that had been the case, perhaps then the 4th of January wouldn’t feel like a funeral full of mourning, heavy with the reflections on what could have been and what was lost, hidden beneath the facade of a joyous celebration.

Had you truly understood Senku better than anyone else—or were you simply deluded by the fantasy of loving him meant understanding him? 

No. You did understand him. You understood that science would always come first among anything else, even when he repeatedly told you a relationship with him would feel like war against his love for science, after your stubborn acts of love. 

You understood that loving Senku meant a battle of sacrifices in their rawest, most merciless form. 

Though that may possibly have been the problem. Maybe you had spent years understanding him, that neither of you had noticed the cracks that began to form.

The calls were once a regular part of the routine you both shared, gradually reduced in length; conversations that were once flowing easily, depleted into quick exchanges as you fought for a space between rocket simulations and research deadlines. 

“You’re still awake?”

“I wanted to hear your voice, Sen.”

“It’s two in the morning there.”

“Yeah, and it’s the only time I can talk to you.”

At first, the distance felt survivable—it was nothing against the stubborn trait of yours that Senku loved the most about you. It was painful, yet manageable, for you thought love could prevail any distance as long as you were patient enough.

Because, despite being oceans apart, Senku still sounded like the Senku that made you fall victim to Cupid’s arrow. 

Still remembered to text you when deadlines changed. Still rambled absentmindedly about his aerospace engineering theories in ways for you to understand easily. Still made the effort to make it up to you after postponing dates, with a gesture as simple as ordering your favorite food or sending you a new invention or scientific solution of his.

And perhaps that was why you failed to notice the subtle shift that began to slowly kill you from within, like a silent poison seeping through your veins, eroding the strength you once had.

It happened slowly—cruelly slow as if you were stabbed and left to bleed out, alone.

“Sorry. The meeting about the research funding ran longer than expected.”

“Again, Sen?”

“...Yeah.”

Over time, plans became tentative and hung in the air, waiting to be fulfilled yet constantly postponed.

“Can we move tonight’s call?”

“You said that for the third time this week, Sen.”

“...Yeah. Got stuck running experiments.”

Conversations that once lasted through hours dwindled into less than ten-minute check-ins, slowly turning into something scheduled, then forgotten entirely as an argument surfaced instead.

“You’re making this a bigger deal than it already is.”

“That’s because it is a big deal, Sen. You said you’ll fly back in time for our anniversary— Do you even miss me?”

“That’s a stupid question to ask, of course I do.”

“...Then why can’t I feel like you do?”

Another month, another project, another delay. However, how much more could you take before you fell apart completely? 

The most painful part wasn’t the constant battle for his attention—no, it was the fact that you knew that he had never meant to hurt you. You knew that. You knew that better than anyone else. 

Yet you should’ve known that a battle where all you did was bleed while constantly trying to be the bravest soldier, was doomed to end before you could even reach the frontlines. Especially while he remained oceans away, chasing stars instead of wars.

The events of the last time you saw him, heard of him, and from him, replayed in your mind constantly; a thought you could never push down despite the numerous attempts. 

Because how could you possibly forget the last memory you shared with him? How, when it was the moment you wiped the joy on his face from finally seeing you after months spent oceans apart, with a simple, “Senku, I can’t do this anymore.”

The memory kept burning through your head throughout the whole morning and afternoon of January 4th. You thought it would eventually numb you by repeatedly playing, but no: each repeat felt worse than the last, as the memories of all the previous 4th of January bled through, offering an awfully painful combination that you didn’t ask for. 

“I should’ve bought a strong dose of melatonin and slept the whole day.” You groaned into your hands, body falling in defeat against the couch. 

Your energy had been completely drained after a whole day of distracting yourself from your thoughts—to which you failed miserably. Your bookshelf suddenly felt interesting to clean, a long afternoon walk suddenly felt productive, heck—even cleaning out your phone’s storage did. 

Though, of course, you avoided the locked album with a pin you were too familiar with, it became an instinct. 

Mustering the remaining energy you had, your hand reached out for your phone on the coffee table, fingers scrolling for a certain group chat:

You guys wanna crash at my place tonight? Please bring anything but alcohol. I need to stay sober, or else I’ll do something stupid. (╥_╥)

And that was exactly how Yuzuriha, Kohaku, and Nikki ended up in your apartment at 7 PM, with every food that could bring you comfort. 

“How long do you plan to pretend your phone doesn’t exist?” Nikki pointed out, her voice slicing through your self-destructing thoughts. 

You turned to her with a weak smile that tried to casually shrug off the weight of the question. “Hah? What are you talking about?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You aren’t exactly subtle about it.” 

Yuzuriha’s hands offered a glass of water after you emotionally went through a bag of chips on your own. “Right. We could see you trying not to check your phone every five minutes, y’know?’’

Kohaku sighed beside you. “I can’t imagine her and subtle in one sentence. It’s especially worse when it comes to Senku.” 

Your body froze, heart skipping a beat at the mention of his name. You tried to brush it off, really. “Who said it was about him?”

All three of them looked at you with faces that screamed: Are you hearing yourself right now?

There was a brief moment of silence before you raised your hands in the air, expressing your guilt. “Okay, okay, it’s about him. Please stop looking at me like that before I have the emotional breakdown I’ve been trying to hold in since I woke up today.”

The three of them exchanged looks before their gazes landed on you again. Not judgmental, not annoyed, just gazes that held a painful understanding of your situation. Which somehow made your chest hurt worse.

Yuzuriha was the first to soften, her hand already reaching out for your shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze in hopes of anchoring you down. “It’s okay to miss him, you know.”

A laugh escaped from your lips, shaky and barely steady as you tried to joke. “Yeah, well, I’ve been missing him for almost a year straight, so I’m kinda getting tired of it.”

There was another silence that filled the gloomy atmosphere. 

You pulled your knees closer to your chest as if you were trying to comfort yourself. Your eyes stared blankly at the now untouched food on your coffee table. 

Outside, the city lights glittered quietly through your apartment windows. And somewhere out there, Senku was celebrating his birthday— without you for the first time in over a decade. 

He never made birthdays a big deal before you forcefully waltzed into his life. Apparently, it was just a regular day except for the fact that he was a year older—his words, of course. 

Though the stubbornness in you refused to acknowledge the fact that birthdays were meaningless to him. Because to you, they were the total opposite. Hence, you made it your personal mission to always celebrate his birthday, to show him it wasn’t just a regular day.

Perhaps that is why January 4th lingered in your mind like a persistent whisper that refused to be silenced. You always went above and beyond to plan a celebration, no matter the distance between the two of you. 

Whether he was oceans away or just a short walk down the street, you always willingly greeted him at exactly midnight to ensure you were the first person he would receive a “Happy birthday!” from. 

You meticulously gathered the friends he merely “tolerated”, ensuring that their presence made him realize it was more than a regular day, and your hands would always be the ones to clutch the candlelit cake, standing proudly at the center of it all.

And despite the way Senku would always say you did too much, the warm smile on his face said otherwise as he gazed at you instead of the cake you held out. Because even when everyone’s gaze and attention were on him, his remained on you. 

You ran a hand across your face, eyes staring at your friends slightly. “Why didn’t you guys attend the party? I’m sure Ryusui planned one.”

Kohaku crossed her legs. “He did. With Gen, too, actually. We chose not to go.”

You tilted your head in confusion, though part of you was happy that they kept the celebrations going even when you, the person who made the biggest deal out of it, was no longer part of it. 

“Why? Knowing Ryusui, it must’ve been grand. Why would you guys skip potentially amazing food and alcohol?” You tried to joke. None of them laughed.

Nikki raised a brow and grinned. “You think we’ll leave you alone to drown in your own thoughts? Not a chance.”

You faked a frown. “Nooo, I wanted to ask you guys if I passed down the torch successfully.”

And for the first time since they’ve arrived at the comfort of your home, they actually laughed. 

“Ryusui and Chrome most likely posted everything on their insta stories by now,” Kohaku said, to which you all agreed without a fight. 

“We could check them if you’re so eager to find out if you succeeded,” Nikki suggested carefully. 

You turned to Nikki with a small laugh escaping your lips. “You know, if I were drunk, that would’ve sobered me up instantly.”

Everyone shared another laugh at your comment. It was the kind of laughter that existed only to keep heavier emotions from crumbling completely. 

The scent of takeout lingered warmly in your apartment living room, though none of you had touched the food in several minutes.

And despite your best efforts in dismissing Nikki’s idea, your mind wouldn’t let you. It felt pathetic, honestly. You weren’t even sure why you badly wanted to see whatever Ryusui or Chrome posted online. Were you seeking reassurance that Senku wasn’t celebrating alone? Or do you just want to see him again?

With a sigh, you heard Nikki’s voice slice through your reverie again. “Hey, if you wanna check the stories, you should.”

“That’s basically telling her to ruin her progress in moving on!” Kohaku argued, to which Nikki shook her head. 

“Maybe, but that wasn’t my intention. We all know she won’t stop thinking about it, and it will kill her for days after this if she doesn't check.”

You groaned into your knees, “I hate that you're absolutely right, Nikki.” 

She chuckled, hand already reaching out to unlock her phone. For a moment, she exchanged glances with Kohaku and Yuzuriha before returning to you. 

“Are you sure about this?” 

You paused, head slowly rising up from the comfort of your knees. “...Yeah, sure. Whatever makes me sleep tonight.” 

A few seconds passed with just the dialogue from a forgotten movie on your television screen, filtering the atmosphere. 

And then, you heard it. The loud, familiar voices singing— no, screaming happy birthday. Or so at least you could distinctly hear the loud voices of Taiju and Chrome singing their hearts out. 

“Wow, they're as loud as ever,” Kohaku commented as she peeked through from Nikki's shoulder.

Yuzuriha's laugh diluted the forgotten dialogues. “I heard from Taiju that they wanted to make the celebration extra loud and special since Senku had just returned from space today.” 

Nikki's eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Man is really making the distance from space look like he's just flying from America back to Japan, huh.” 

You laughed, something between genuine amusement and hurt. Perhaps you were proud too that he had finally achieved his dream, even if it was when you were no longer in his life. “It's Senku we're talking about. We really shouldn't be surprised.” 

Your eyes couldn't be taken off Nikki's phone screen despite your chest tightening painfully. It was the first time you saw his face in almost a year—except for the moments you found yourself scrolling through a gallery of what were once happy memories—Gosh, were you that hurt mentally that it started to hurt physically again?

Your mind was wandering how he somehow looked more mature in a span of a year, or perhaps it was the exhaustion that hid behind the facade of his eyes and the signature smirk of his. Yet you knew him long enough to know the truth. 

Then, you noticed something. “Hey, why isn't anyone holding out the cake?”

Their gazes lifted from the screen and landed on your questioning gaze. There was a brief pause before Yuzuriha spoke out. “Ryusui said it was out of respect for you since you always held out his birthday cake.” 

You blinked, body desperately fighting out the tears that threatened to surface. “Hah…I guess I really passed the torch down successfully.” 

There was a faint crack in your voice, as if you were gathering every last ounce of your strength and self-respect to avoid breaking down completely.

A year ago, you were the one holding the candlelit cake close to his face, smiling the widest among everyone else, promising a lifetime of birthdays to spend together. This year, you were just staring at the celebration from a digital screen, miles away. How quickly for the tides to turn and for promises to end. 

“Hm, Chrome mentioned something about Senku looking for a lot area to build a house while he was visiting Ruri. Apparently, he and Gen tagged along when Ryusui helped Senku in sourcing out for one.” Kohaku added, eyes drifting back to you. 

Nikki turned to her, confused. “Why would Senku want to purchase a lot? And to build a house? I thought he was an apartment type of guy.” 

Yuzuriha nodded. “Yeah…Senku never seemed like the type to live in a house. He's always traveling between continents for his research, too.” 

Their voices began to fade as the realization hit you like a speeding truck with broken brakes. ‘Lot area? House?’ 

Your heart stumbled painfully at the thought because deep down, you knew that there was only one possible reason—unless you were pooled by delusion instead of remembrance—that Senku Ishigami would ever consider purchasing land over a convenient apartment.

And suddenly, you were fresh out of university again, lying across Senku’s bed at nearly midnight while the soft glow of his desk lamp illuminated the dark room. 

The rhythmic scratching of his pencil against paper filled the quiet silence that settled in the room as a blueprint lay flat on his desk. 

“You should be asleep already. Is the light too bright?” He asked without looking away from the blueprint, yet he moved the lamp closer to him and farther from your eyes.

You shook your head, “No.”

“Tch. You’ve got work tomorrow, get some sleep.” 

You chose to lie flat on his bed instead, eyes staring directly at the ceiling with barely attached glow-in-the-dark stars. “But you’re working right now, and I want to watch.”

A soft click of his tongue followed, and even after years, the sound still made you feel warmth blooming stupidly without permission in your chest. 

You shifted again, legs nearly tangling with the soft blanket. Your chin rested atop a pillow as you watched him silently with nothing but love and admiration in your eyes. 

And truthfully speaking, you could spend hours doing this. Just silently existing beside him as he got lost in the field he was most passionate about. Because even when he worked, he never made silence feel lonely. 

“I just wanna spend time with you, Sen.” You mumbled sleepily, fighting the urge to close your eyes. “Even if it’s just watching you work.”

Finally, Senku’s eyes left the blueprint as he glanced at you. His expression softened faintly; it was brief yet enough. 

“What a sap.” Despite his insult, his hand reached out, sliding beneath the blanket to reach out for your hand, intertwining it with his as his gaze remained on the blueprint. 

You paused, blinking once, then twice, before a smile appeared on your face. Lazily, you traced shapes with your thumb against the back of his hand.

“Hey, Sen?”

He hummed, signaling you to continue, to which you did. “If you ever settle down one day, would you rather live in an apartment or a house?”

“Apartment.”

You blinked at the lack of hesitation in his voice. “That was way too fast. Did you even consider the other option?”

He nodded, scribbling something on the paper. “Less maintenance. More efficient and strategically better if I’m traveling constantly.”

Your eyes narrowed in disbelief. “Wow, that sounds incredibly romantic, Sen.”

He chuckled quietly, briefly glancing at you with a smirk on his face. “Should I become a poet and quit being a scientist then?”

You snorted at his joke, rolling your eyes playfully. But then, he said something with a voice softer than before. 

“But I’ll leave the decision to you.” 

Your heart skipped a beat almost instantly. “Wait— What?”

Senku hummed once more in response, making you pause as your mind gathered the next set of words you were going to say. “...You see me in your future?”

Finally, he looked at you properly. The blueprint and pencil momentarily forgotten as his chair turned to face you. And then, the fond gaze that settled in his eyes nearly melted you alive. 

“Of course I do.” His hand slipped out of your hold as he moved it higher to flick your forehead softly. “What made you even question that?”

Your chest felt embarrassingly warm right after. Yet despite that, a grin spread across your face easily. “Are you sure I’m the sappy one?” 

He didn’t answer. Instead, he clicked his tongue in annoyance, hand intertwining with yours again as he returned to his precious blueprint. 

However, you weren’t done. You sat up excitedly, more awake than ever, and the grin never left your face. “Okay then, I want a house with a huge living room with tall windows and really high ceilings.”

“And here I thought I was ambitious.” He mocked softly. 

You ignored his mocking response. “And a garden outside with all sorts of plants and flowers.”

“The maintenance would be hell.”

You ignored that as well. “And a library too,” you added with the biggest smile on your face. “Like one of those pretty libraries with ladders that slide across the shelves.”

He didn’t say anything this time, allowing you to ramble endlessly. 

“And obviously a huge lab for you with every equipment that you need, and an observatory so we could always stargaze together.”

“And you question who’s the sappy one?” He scoffed playfully in pretend disbelief. 

You laughed softly. Then, a sudden gasp escaped from your lips. “Can we have a weeping tree in the backyard?” 

Without even glancing at you, Senku replied immediately. “No. That’s a bad idea.”

You frowned, shifting closer to him. “Why?”

“Their root systems are highly invasive and seek ridiculous amounts of water constantly, which can destroy plumbing and septic lines, have a short lifespan, are pest and disease-prone—” 

You cut him off before he could list another issue, “Okay, okay, I get it, genius.”

He chuckled in victory, eyes briefly glancing at you. That was when he saw the look on your face, which clearly meant you were far from done. 

“Can’t you come up with one of your scientific solutions to fix those issues?”

Senku looked mildly offended at your question, and you heard him click his tongue. “Stubborn as ever, aren’t you? Obviously, but it would still be inefficient to plant one.”

“Fine,” You huffed dramatically. “A wisteria then. Or cherry blossoms.”

“Hm. Acceptable.”

You grinned triumphantly before squeezing his hand once. And despite Senku’s focus on his blueprint, he returned the gesture instantly. Soft, firm, and grounding. As if the future you had described had already become his to accomplish, too. 

The voices around you faded into nothing but muffled noises you couldn’t hear as your mind echoed violently with memories that resurfaced with cruel clarity. 

Your chest tightened painfully again, as if your ribs were one squeeze away from crushing your lungs and heart. Because you had genuinely thought that conversation had only mattered to you—that maybe Senku had forgotten it beneath the pile of rocket launches, research papers, and years spent chasing stars that made you feel he was beyond your reach. 

Yet no, he remembered. He remembered that he actually started looking for land. And that realization hollowed whatever was left from inside you. 

You could hear Kohaku’s voice sounding distant as she called out your name, though you didn’t reply. 

Your eyes remained fixed somewhere past your coffee table filled with untouched food, past the forgotten television, past the city lights that continued to glow outside of your apartment. 

You were physically present. Your body was there, yet it felt like you were mentally trapped years ago inside of Senku’s apartment as he held your hand while listening to you ramble about a future that wasn’t given a chance to exist. 

Back when loving him was as easy as breathing.

You could hear Nikki’s voice come closer as she tried to get your attention. Still, you barely reacted. 

Your breathing started feeling strangely uneven, as if your lungs had suddenly forgotten how to function properly. 

A hand touched your shoulder as Yuzuriha called out your name, louder and clearer. 

You blinked more than once as reality seeped through, all at once. The warm lights of your apartment, the untouched food scattered across the coffee table, and your friends staring at you with worried faces.

Yuzuriha’s brows furrowed as her hand remained on your shoulder. “You’ve been spacing out since Kohaku mentioned the lot.”

Silence. You remained silent. Your lips parted slightly, yet no words came out. And suddenly, as if the last line of defense had been breached, your vision blurred. 

‘No— not now out of all times—’

You tried to inhale sharply, yet it came out shaky instead. You instantly looked away while rubbing your eyes quickly before a tear could fall.

“Sorry,” even your laugh came out shaky. “I’m fine, just—”

Your voice cracked, and that was all it took before the dam broke completely. 

A tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it, followed by another. Your hand flew to your mouth as if you could physically force all of the emotions that had escaped back inside of yourself again.

Except you couldn’t. You no longer could. The grief felt too unbearable as you mourned the future that almost existed— could’ve existed. 

Yuzuriha immediately moved closer, arms already reaching out to hug you tightly as if she could keep whatever remained intact. 

“I’m sorry—” you whispered shakily as you fought back a sob, shaking your head quickly. “I don’t even know why I’m crying this much. It’s been so long since I did. It’s stupid—”

“It’s not stupid,” Nikki said softly, eyes exchanging glances with the other two.

You wanted to stop, you really did. You didn’t want them to see you weak and crying again, as if the wound left by the breakup was still fresh. Perhaps it was, perhaps it had never been healed at all.

“I wish…” Your voice cracked badly. “I wish I could just hate him so moving on could’ve been easy—but no, it’s so hard to hate him at all.” You spoke out between heavy sobs. 

A shaky laugh escaped through your sobs. “I don’t know how to stop—Gosh, I still miss him.”

Nobody tried to interrupt, offering their silent presence as comfort. They didn’t try to fix it because they knew there was nothing fixable about loving someone correctly at the wrong time.

“I really don’t know how to stop missing him— or loving him,” you finally admitted the truth that you constantly buried beneath a facade of distractions. “I don’t know how to stop missing him or loving him just because I have to.”

You wiped your tears aggressively, something he would most likely scold you for. “He’s still the first person I want to call when something good or bad happens.”

“Gosh, I even tear up whenever I pass by stores selling instant ramen because I remember how messed up his eating habits are. It’s no wonder he stayed a twink during university.” Another shaky laugh slipped from between the tears and your cracked voice. 

Your weak attempt to insult Senku didn’t go unnoticed by them as they snorted slightly. 

Nikki was the first to snort. “Okay, calling a literal astronaut who happens to be the most sought-after scientist too, a twink sounds insane now that his training paid off.”

Kohaku crossed her arms with a smile of amusement. “At least his progress had started to show.”

Yuzuriha let out a soft laugh, arms still holding you tight. “I still remember him forgetting to eat unless you physically handed him food.”

A broken laugh escaped you again as the memory appeared in your mind.

“Why am I even laughing and crying over instant ramen? I’m going crazy, aren’t I?” You asked them with tears flowing down your face while laughing with a broken smile. 

Despite the situation, that managed to earn a genuine laugh from them as Yuzuriha hugged you tighter and Kohaku walked to your kitchen to grab some tissues.

“No, no, you aren’t going crazy,” she soothed quickly as one hand reached out to lean your head on her shoulder. “Definitely heartbroken, but not crazy.”

Nikki sat beside you, “Honestly, this is healthier than whatever you thought was better to do for the past year.” 

“Which was repressing everything,” she added. 

“I really wish I could just hate him, not because I want to, but because maybe it’d be easier if I did.” You buried your face in the palms of your hands. “But then I also remember how hard he worked, how excited he looked while talking about space and rocket engineering as if the universe had personally asked him to.” 

A tear slipped down your cheek, “But how could I hate him for that? How could I hate him for simply dreaming?”

Kohaku returned quietly with a box of tissues. Then, she turned to you. “If it makes a difference, Senku actually loved you.”

Nikki’s eyes widened, “Kohaku—”

Kohaku blinked, staring at all of you with a confused look. “What? It’s true.”

Your head snapped upward as Kohaku frowned slightly before she continued. “He’s terrible at expressing emotions and might be the most affectionately constipated jerk on the planet, but he loved you. We all saw it.”

Your eyes watered dangerously again as you stared at her with wobbly lips. “Kohaku, I love you, but why would you tell me that right now?!” 

Yuzuriha rubbed your shaking arms gently as she panic-laugh beside you. “Haha…though it’s the truth, we should’ve worked on the delivery .”

Kohaku nodded, faces already running with guilt as she apologized. “You’re right, I’m really sorry. I just wanted to help.”

You laughed through your tears, smiling at her attempt as Nikki rested her head lightly against yours. “You know, sometimes people can love each other and still not know how to grow together.”

Your eyes squeezed shut at her comment. Maybe that was exactly the fate you and Senku fell victim to. He kept reaching for the stars, and somewhere between the ocean and skies, you stopped being able to reach him completely.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Senku Ishigami had long accepted that his friends were both his greatest source of headache and one of the few things that kept him sane. Though he’d rather spend a lifetime with them than to admit it out loud.

According to the greediest man on the planet, Ryusui Nanami, every celebration deserved excess. Senku knew better that he just wanted another excuse to have all kinds of alcohol in one room for a night. 

Which could explain why Senku currently sat in a private lounge, owned by Ryusui, as his friends drowned themselves in expensive whiskey around him. 

The cake that was once glowing with a soft flame stared at him mockingly from across the table he was at. Nobody had dared to touch it, to hold it out for him as they sang happy birthday—and Senku didn’t need to calculate rocket science to figure out it was out of respect for you, the one who used to hold out the cake for him.

“Cheers!” Ryusui boomed loudly as he refilled everyone's drinks. 

Chrome was already tipsy along with Taiju as Ukyo tried to control their alcohol intake. 

Gen, however, remained close. His eyes observed the scientist in front of him, who nursed another glass of whiskey. At this point, the mentalist had lost count of how much Senku had drunk already. 

“Senku-chan, are you trying to break your record immediately after stepping into the Earth’s atmosphere?” Gen asked, wearing an expression of amusement and worry.

Senku, who had just drunk from his glass, raised a brow at him. “Hah? What are you talking about, mentalist?” 

Ryusui appeared again with a different bottle of alcohol in his hand as he offered Senku a lazy smirk. “Not to mention the constant checking of your phone, Senku. Waiting for someone, are we?”

Senku clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Tch. Shut up.”

Ryusui and Gen instantly shared a laugh as Senku muttered something along the lines of, “I should’ve stayed in outer space.”

For a moment, the sound of their snickering lingered in the air before Gen leaned forward with narrowed eyes at Senku. 

“You’re waiting for her birthday greeting, or even just a message from her, aren’t you?” 

A dangerous silence filled the atmosphere between the three of them. Then, Senku exhaled through his nose and took another sip. 

“...Yeah.” He gulped down another sip, and the burning feeling that ran through his throat began to numb. “It’s selfish considering how things ended.”

For a while, nobody spoke. Ryusui and Gen exchanged glances as the music in the bar suddenly sounded louder than before. The silence wasn’t awkward, just heavy with the regrets that constantly taunted Senku. 

Gen swirled the drink inside the glass he was holding; the intention of changing the topic appeared in his mind. “How’s the construction for the lot that you had recently bought, Senku-chan?”

Senku raised a brow, hand reaching out for the bottle near Ryusui to refill his glass. 

“The one near the outskirts,” Gen added. “Has construction started yet?”

“Nah.” Senku leaned back further into the cushion of the couch, an arm lazily draped over the backrest while the other held his whiskey glass. 

The familiar burning sensation met his throat again as he took another sip. “Still finalizing the design.”

Ryusui hummed, a brow raised as well. “Oh? I thought you had finished the draft weeks ago.”

“I did.”

“Then what’s the hold-up, Senku-chan?” Gen asked as he reached out for cola instead of whiskey.

“Had to revise the window structure,” Senku replied flatly.

“Window structure?” Ryusui repeated with a laugh of disbelief. “Since when did you start caring about aesthetics, Senku?”

“Natural lighting efficiency,” Senku answered instantly. “Large windows reduce daytime electricity usage.”

Ryusui hummed in response, though Senku knew from the grin on the sailor’s face that he knew more than he let on.

Gen blinked suspiciously, eyes shifting between the two before landing on Senku. “And the giant library? Why did you design a two-story library again?”

Senku didn’t answer, which enhanced Gen’s suspicion. Then, the mentalist’s expression transformed abruptly as realization slammed into him. 

“Oh.”

Senku clicked his tongue hard while Ryusui’s grin widened. The sailor even had the audacity to laugh behind his glass. 

“Have you finally figured it out, Gen?” He asked, eyes teasingly shifted towards Senku. 

Gen stared at Senku with an incredulous look on his face. “...The ideas for the house were never yours, were they, Senku-chan?”

Senku didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he chuckled bitterly as he stared quietly at the amber liquid swirling inside his glass before he downed it again. “...Yeah.”

Ryusui turned to Gen with another grin on his face. “You should’ve seen him compare land locations based on sunlight exposure, soil and terrain conditions, flood and hazard zones, distance from the city—”

“Yeah, yeah, no need to expose me further, Ryusui.” Senku cut him off in annoyance, though he didn’t deny anything.

Senku Ishigami—the man who dedicated his entire life to chasing the stars—had been planning a home permanent enough to always return to. And somehow, before construction could even start, he had already lost the part that made it feel like home.

“I want to call her. I want to apologize for being the biggest jerk on the planet— screw that, the whole of the Milky Way.” He admitted bluntly, making the other two stare at him in shock, though part of them already expected that Senku would say something like that. 

“Has the alcohol finally caught up with you, Senku-chan?” Gen teasingly asked. 

Senku shook his head. “Nah. I’m not stupid enough yet to act selfishly and ruin whatever progress she made in forgetting me.”

Ryusui leaned forward, hand placing his glass down. “But do you want to?”

Senku let out a laugh that sounded like a mix of honesty, bitterness, and disbelief. “Yeah, ten billion percent do.”

“Will you ask for Ryusui’s strongest bottle then, Senku?” Ukyo asked teasingly as he appeared out of nowhere and sat between Gen and Ryusui. His teasing tone earned a snort from both of them as they looked far too entertained at the situation bound to unfold in front of them.

Senku snickered behind his glass. “How much have you heard, Ukyo?”

“Enough to know that you could also be a love-sick fool.” He offered Senku a smile. 

Ukyo’s answer made the other two laugh out loudly as Senku playfully rolled his eyes before finishing the rest of his drink.

“Tch, you people are ten billion percent annoying.”

“And yet you’re here, Senku-chan.” Gen pointed out with a smug look on his face.

“Ryusui kidnapped me immediately after I landed. Didn’t even bother to say anything as he did.” Senku deadpanned.

Ryusui laughed loudly with a proud grin on his face. “Don’t ruin my reputation, Senku. I did what any other good friend should.”

Senku merely clicked his tongue, hand already reaching for the bottle before anyone could. 

“Oi,” Ryusui called out, a faint laugh hiding his concern. “Are you seriously trying to speedrun self-destruction immediately after returning from the ISS?” 

Gen chuckled nervously, “He already looks like he’s halfway there.” 

Ukyo sighed softly as he eyed the scientist with amusement and concern. “You do realize your alcohol tolerance isn’t infinite, right?”

Senku raised a brow. “Hah? Obviously.” 

“That’s not reassuring.” The other three said in unison.

Though Senku ignored them completely, quietly checking his smartphone for the hundredth time since he landed. And as if he didn’t hear Ukyo’s recent warning, his hand was already reaching out for an unopened bottle and opened it himself. The amber liquid reflected against the dim lights of the private lounge as silence eloped them briefly.

Gen leaned lazily against his palm before speaking. “For someone who claims that he doesn’t want to ruin her progress…Your actions say the opposite. How many times have you checked your notifications?”

Senku snickered before responding. “It’s called multi-tasking, Gen. Pretty basic skill.”

All three of them gave him a look that clearly said: Easy for you to say.

Ukyo leaned back, eyes studying Senku’s exhausted expression that he tried to hide. “You know, I think this is the most emotional we’ve ever seen you. Besides when your rocket first successfully launched into space, that is.”

“That was the happy type of emotional Senku; this one is the sad and regretful one.” Gen added beside Ukyo, earning a snort from Ryusui. 

“Must be the lowered gravity from space messing with my brain.” Senku reasoned casually. 

Ukyo and Gen sweat dropped visibly. “Sure, let’s all agree to blame NASA and JAXA for that.” 

Taiju suddenly appeared out of nowhere from behind Senku, voice suddenly serious as if he wasn’t drunk moments ago. “But do you still love her, Senku?”

Senku was faintly surprised— no, all of them were when Taiju suddenly joined the conversation. Yet a small smile appeared on Senku’s face, the softness, regret, and certainty hidden beneath the facade of his smugness. 

“That’s the dumbest question you could ever ask me, big-oaf.”

“Then why let her go if you still do, man?” Chrome asked out of nowhere as well, suddenly sober. Randomly appearing the same way Taiju did.

Senku blinked, eyes shifting between the two flatly. “Where the hell did you two even come from?”

“That’s not important right now!” Chrome shot back, climbing the couch from behind to sit next to Senku.

“It kinda is…” Ukyo sweat dropped.

“We heard everything, man!” Taiju added, far louder than chrome as he mimicked his actions.

Senku looked mildly annoyed as he downed a glass of whiskey. “Yeah? You two got Ukyo’s insane hearing now?”

The other three laughed instantly at the joke, looking far too amused at the growing crowd around Senku.

Chrome, however, wasn’t laughing. He had a frown on his face and looked too serious for someone who had been drunk minutes ago. “Honestly?” He glared at Senku. “That wasn’t a cool move from you at all, Senku.”

That made everyone glance at Chrome, and Senku looked at him with mild offense. “Hah?”

Chrome clicked his tongue out of frustration. His hand suddenly slammed his glass down, and a bit of whiskey splashed out. “You just let her go like that!”

The atmosphere shifted into silence instantly. Chrome rarely sounded angry at Senku. He was always admiring him. 

“I mean, c’mon,” Chrome continued roughly. “You’re literally one of the smartest guys on the planet— heck, the smartest.”  

“Tch, that's ten billion percent debatable.” Senku shot flatly.

“You’re the only guy on the planet who built a homemade rocket at the ripe age of ten!” Chrome snapped back. “How could you not come up with scientific solutions to keep her?!” 

A heavy silence followed Chrome’s frustrated outburst. The others remained silent as they watched his anger unfold. Because, despite how irrational Chrome sounded, he was logical in the language of love.

Chrome ran a hand through his hair. “If Ruri asked me to leave her someday, I won’t be able to do it. Even if she argues that it’s for the better— I just can’t do it.”

He looked genuinely devastated now, as if he was grieving a relationship that wasn’t even his. Then, he continued. “Because if you love someone, aren’t you supposed to fight for them?” 

Everyone saw how Senku’s expression faltered. It was barely noticeable, yet they saw it and knew that one hit him harder than his failed rocket launches.

For a moment, Senku remained silent as he looked at Chrome with an unreadable expression. With a voice that lacked his usual sarcasm, he admitted, “I did.”

Then, his gaze shifted towards his glass of whiskey. A bitter laugh followed right after. “You think I didn’t try?” 

“She genuinely looked so hurt and exhausted when she told me she couldn’t do it anymore.” He paused briefly. “I kept telling her and myself that things would calm down after every project.”

“I tried fixing it the same way I tried fixing everything else.” 

Everyone in the room knew that Senku expressed his care or love differently compared to others. He was never vocal about it; his actions always spoke out for him. Be it when you complained about winter being too cold, hence he modified thermal fabric and mailed it to Japan along with custom heatpacks. Or the time you told him you missed stargazing with him and his telescope, he custom-built a compact telescope to fit your apartment balcony and wrote a calendar of astronomical events for you. 

They were never just scientific solutions— no, that was just the way Senku Ishigami knew how to love. 

Gen, who was quietly listening the whole time, sighed softly as he had already decided to lend their dearest astronaut a hand. “In Senku-chan’s language, that was how he showed his version of devotion.”

Senku scoffed in annoyance. “Don’t make it sound weird, mentalist. Devotion is a strong word.”

“But it’s the truth, isn’t it?” Gen countered softly.

Then, he turned to the other scientist. “Chrome, most people would write poems or say ‘I love you’”, his gaze briefly returned to Senku. “But Senku-chan solved her problems as if it were rocket science.”

Ryusui snorted softly. “In other words, Senku modified science as a love language.” 

Gen dramatically pointed a finger at Senku. “He would rather rebuild modern civilization from scratch than to vocally express affection.” 

Somehow, that earned a laugh from everyone, even Senku himself. 

“The problem was,” he continued softly. “That she stopped needing solutions— she just wanted him.” 

Senku didn’t deny Gen’s conclusion; he knew he was right. He, himself, knew that the most. He could find a solution to anything as long as he dedicated himself to it.

But emotional reassurance? Senku could learn every complicated topic in the world, yet he would still lack the knowledge to give you what you needed the most.

It wasn’t the lack of love or effort that slowly made loving him hurt— no, it was the fact that two people were speaking different love languages. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆

The apartment was now occupied by silence again— except for the loud thoughts that refused to die down without a fight. 

Yuzuriha, Kohaku, and Nikki had returned home half an hour ago. You insisted they did despite their refusal. It was late, and you wanted to retire for the night, was the reason you gave them.

Yet you find yourself staring at your bedroom ceiling as if it could magically solve your problems. And of course, you didn’t need to be sober to realize it couldn’t. Though perhaps he could— no, scratch that, he was the problem you were currently facing. 

Sleep wasn’t coming around easily, nothing was really. You’ve tried about everything: a warm shower, walking around every corner of your apartment, wearing your comfiest pair of sleepwear, changing the temperature of your thermostat—yet nothing worked. 

Somehow, the sound of your clock on the bedside table was getting louder, as if it was personally mocking you as you resisted the urge that resurfaced countless times throughout the day. The urge to greet him happy birthday.

Your eyes shifted towards your phone that lay flat on the bedside table, next to your clock. If you weren’t spiraling, you would’ve laughed at the combination. 

There were exactly fifteen minutes left before January 4th ended. And for some reason, you couldn’t exactly tell if time was going by slowly or fast.

Your eyes shut close as you felt the pain in your chest start again. You repeatedly reminded yourself not to do it, not to ruin the progress you fought tooth and nail to build. 

Your fingers curled into the soft fabric of your blanket as your thoughts continued to clash against one another. Part of you didn’t want to, yet a bigger part of you wanted to. Because it’s his birthday. You had continuously greeted him for more than a decade, when you were merely a teenager who admired him, when he had yet to love you back. 

You used to stay awake until midnight just to ensure you were the first to greet him. And of course, Senku complained about it. Something along the lines of ruining your sleep schedule just to acknowledge that he was a year older. 

Yet he always sounded pleased despite it. 

And now, a year has passed without a single word from you or about you reaching him. Or perhaps there was, and you were just unaware. Gen and Taiju would’ve most likely informed him even if he didn’t ask.

Was it cruel of you to suddenly disappear after forcing yourself to be a constant in the equation of his life?

That seemed to have done it as your hand abruptly reached for your phone before a second thought could form. You opened your messages and scrolled till you reached his contact. 

Your throat felt dry as you hesitantly unlocked him, your last message mocking you silently.

Senku, where are you? 

Can we talk?

Your fingers trembled against your keyboard. Maybe it was selfish, selfish to suddenly appear after disappearing for so long. Maybe it was cruel to reopen wounds that barely healed at all. 

Then, more thoughts formed, far more cruel than the previous ones. What if he doesn’t reply? What if he does, yet he replies coldly? What if—

You quickly typed out “Happy birthday, Senku.” And clicked send before another thought could form. Then, you tossed your phone across the other side of your bed and buried your face flat against your pillow. 

Your pulse rose violently. You felt stupid, yet relieved and everything in between.

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Senku was halfway through Ryusui’s strongest bottle, now fully aware he was starting to feel tipsy. He wasn’t the type to drink often, yet he had been exposed to numerous chemicals already that his body had slowly grown immune to them. Or perhaps he just had a high alcohol tolerance.

He usually tested his tolerance with Ryusui, who wanted to test out every available alcohol out of greed. That same Ryusui was currently refilling everyone’s glass as François appeared with a new tray of food. This time, it was sushi. 

Senku was about to swallow the sushi in his mouth when he heard a specific notification that nearly made him choke as everything around him seemed to halt, the chopsticks falling out of his hold. 

Taiju, who was next to him, heard it. “What was that, Senku? Are you choking?!” 

Ukyo didn’t need to be next to him to hear and recognize that specific sound, after all, it was he who pointed out before that Senku set a custom notification sound for your messages. The genius reasoned that it was efficient.

“Is that…?” Ukyo asked with wide eyes. 

Senku, however, didn’t answer as he swallowed the sushi in his mouth, hand already reaching out for his phone so quickly he nearly knocked over his drink. 

And there it was, a greeting from you. 

Funny how that was all he needed to sober up, or at least he thought he did. And before anyone else could say something, he was already standing and rushing out of the room.

Gen visibly perked up, everyone did. “Senku-chan—?” 

Senku was already out of the private lounge. 

His heart was beating loudly, drowning the worried calls of his companions. Yet for a moment, that didn’t matter as his thumb hovered over your message.

He blinked once, then twice as if he was waiting for the message to disappear. Though to his surprise, it didn’t. It was still there, waiting for a reply. 

Unfortunately, or fortunately—he couldn’t quite tell anymore—the alcohol made him reckless. Or maybe just honest. 

Because before any logic could catch up, he pressed call out of desperation. 

The phone rang more than once. And somewhere else in Tokyo, your stomach dropped painfully at the sound. 

You immediately sat up, hands reaching for your phone that rang violently. You stared in horror once you saw who was calling you. It was him. 

Your breathing became uneven, hands shook as they held the device with the little strength you had left. He wasn’t supposed to call. 

Your mind fell into a dilemma. Were you going to answer him or not? What were you even going to say to him? That you’ve been spiraling over greeting him the whole day? About reaching out?

And before you could come to a decision, the call ended. Then, a message appeared. 

Answer me.

Please.

Another call rang out a second after you read the messages from him. Once, twice, then you finally clicked the green button before you could rethink your decision. Perhaps it was out of instinct—the instinct to answer whenever he called. 

You were met with the muffled sound of music from somewhere far. Then it was heavy and uneven breathing mixed with disbelief. Like he had run somewhere despite his mind still processing. 

And finally, you heard his voice. “...You actually picked up.”

You felt your chest tighten physically, which made you lean against your headboard, eyes staring straight at the ceiling as if it could instruct you on what to say this time. 

His voice sounded lower and rougher than usual. And if you weren't hearing things, it sounded slightly slurred. 

You shut your eyes briefly, hand tightening around your phone. “You rarely say please…Are you drunk?” 

A faint snicker from him reached your ears, weak yet filled with amusement. “Hah, that's the first thing you chose to say to me after a year?” 

“You sound terrible. I'm assuming that's Ryusui's doing.” You remarked, already thinking of what to tell Ryusui for letting him drink that much. 

“Tch. Compared to earlier, I'm basically sober right now.” 

This time, your stomach twisted painfully. “Just how much did you drink?” 

You heard soft movements from the other side of the line, enough to make a guess that he was leaning against a wall. 

With a casual voice, he said, “Dunno, Ryusui kept bringing new bottles…The refilling part was on me.”

You felt your stomach drop as you frowned. Despite everything, you were still concerned about him. “Didn’t you just return from space and you're already trying to destroy your liver?” 

And you hated that you still are. Hated how naturally concern came to you when it was about him. Hated how even after everything, it was still your instinct to question if he was taking care of himself, if he was overworking himself again. 

He snickered. “Must’ve left 90% of my logic in outer space. The remaining 10% evaporated when you texted me.”

You sighed, hand running through your hair. “I shouldn't have messaged you—” 

“No,” He interrupted softly, voice suddenly sounding desperate. “Don't say that.”

Silence eloped the two of you as you didn't know how to reply to that. Your knees curled closer towards your chest as your mind fought to think of what to say. 

And before you could say anything, he beat you to it. Voice suddenly sounded low again. “...I was waiting for you.”

Your vision blurred right away at his words. Was it because he sounded so genuine? Was it because this was your first conversation in a year? Or was it because he said he was waiting for you when your relationship used to revolve around you waiting for him?

A soft chuckle escaped from his lips, stripped off from his usual confidence. “I kept checking my phone like an idiot all night. Gen and Ryusui noticed first and kept bothering me about it. Then Ukyo appeared, followed by Taiju and Chrome.” 

You felt a tear slip, hand instinctively rushing to cover your mouth before a sob came out. Gosh, must he tell you that?  

“...You shouldn't have waited for me.” 

“I know.” He murmured. “But you used to greet me constantly at midnight for over a decade. Couldn't help it.” 

You inhaled sharply through your nose. “That was before, Senku…Things changed.”

“I know,” he repeated quietly. “But I happened to be selfish tonight.” 

Now you were really wishing that you hadn’t called, because his response was telling you that he was thinking of you. How were you supposed to move on quietly after that? 

The noise from the bar began to fade further away, as if he was walking farther from everything else. 

“I screwed up.” 

Your eyes burned with tears as you clutched your phone tighter than before after it threatened to slip out of your hold after hearing his words. 

A sharp exhale from him followed after. “I really thought I had more time.” 

“After the next launch, research, experiment, conference, project— I assumed I'd have more time.” He continued, voice filled with the regret that had been piling up for a year. 

You laughed weakly despite the tears silently falling. “I never doubted your love for me, Sen.” 

“I knew you loved me; everyone knew you did, even if you were the most affectionately constipated person in the group.” You added before he could respond. 

You aggressively wiped away your tears with the back of your hand, a sniffle escaping through your defenses. “I saw that you loved differently. I saw it whenever you patiently taught me topics I found confusing, when you built things for my convenience, or when you fixed things without me having to ask.” 

Your voice and defenses had failed you completely halfway. Your sobs broke through your words, and that broke something in him as he had to listen to you cry because of him again.

“But eventually,” you sniffled again. “I stopped needing your inventions or scientific solutions.” 

A painful silence settled briefly. “...I just needed you, Sen.” 

The line grew terrifyingly quiet afterward that for a second, you considered the call had disconnected. 

Then finally, a shaky exhale came from the other side of the line. “...I know.” 

And the way he said it nearly destroyed you. There was no defensiveness behind it, no excuses or attempts to justify himself. It was just the raw truth of realization and understanding. 

“And that's what's been screwing me up for the past year,” he let out a weak laugh. “Building rockets was easier than when I kept thinking of that.” 

Your lips parted slightly, though nothing came out because of how stunned you were. How could you not be? What were you supposed to even answer to that? The Senku Ishigami sounded lost for the first time, as if he had run out of scientific solutions to use, defeated over love. 

“I kept thinking if I worked hard enough,” he admitted quietly as regret laced his voice. “Then eventually I could give you everything that you wanted.” 

“The house, your ridiculously hard-to-maintain garden, your two-story library— the future you wanted.” 

At Senku’s side, he stared beyond the city lights behind the window in the hallway of the building he was in. And for a moment, he could see the future that failed to occur: your laughter filling the silent hallways, the warmth that radiated from your smile making the house feel like home.

And now that he could finally start the future you asked for, you had already left his side.

His grip tightened as his gaze lowered. “Failed to realize you needed something way simpler that time.” 

The call went silent again right after he said that. You were nearly speechless, your tears halted. The heel of your palm pressed against your forehead as you managed to let out a weak laugh. 

“Senku,” you called out, voice weak with a painful amusement and disbelief. 

“I was willing to attend a hundred funerals of every version you would grow up to be if it meant I could stay by your side forever—” your breathing shook unevenly. “The high school student who launched a homemade rocket to space, the university student who tried to survive on instant ramen, the doctoral student pursuing a doctorate at MIT,” 

You continued on listing every version you saw of him, built on the ambition that made you fall for him, yet was the very same ambition that made loving him hurt. 

“...The scientist worldwide agencies and governments wanted, the astronaut in training. Somehow, between the listings, your tears found you again as you tried to choke back a sob. “But I didn't realize those versions of you would kill me too.” 

Another heavy silence settled, and it was suffocating. Afterward, he said the most unexpected thing you could hear from him. 

“... I'm sorry.” 

You blinked painfully, “Senku—” 

“No, I mean it.” He cut you off softly. 

His voice sounded rougher than before. “I'm sorry I kept making you wait.” 

“Stop.” You pleaded, the heel of your palm pressed harder on your forehead than before. 

“I'm sorry I made you feel alone—” 

You interrupted this time. “Senku, stop. You're making this harder for the both of us.” 

“That wasn't my intention,” his response was immediate and firm. “You spent years trying to understand me, least I could do is acknowledge how badly I screwed up.”

You paused, unaware of what to do now. If anything, how this conversation was leading felt like tearing open wounds that never truly healed in the first place. 

Because hearing him like that, apologizing with dangerous self-awareness, made a part of you want to stay. To try again. 

And that terrified you. The thought of how things ended, the thought of losing yourself while trying to love him, scared you. 

You tried to push every ounce of hesitation back down before speaking. “I think this should be our last conversation.”

You tried to say it properly, you really did. Yet your voice still decided to crack halfway through. 

The response came instantly after a sharp inhale from him, barely any hesitation in his voice, unlike yours. “No.” 

You inhaled sharply through your nose, eyes shutting once again. The situation was hard enough, and he was making it far harder. “Senku—” 

“You're saying that as if it's strategically the best outcome for the two of us.” 

His tone shifted into something quieter right after. “...Is that what you really want?”

You were speechless again. You could hear it, the dismay in his voice. 

“Will your life be better if I remain out of it?” He asked quietly. 

No. You thought immediately. It wouldn't. You weren't even sure if time could heal the wounds left by over a decade of loving him. 

You fought back a sob, yet your voice cracked again anyway. “Yes.”

Senku went physically still at your response, and you had to muster any remaining strength in your body. “I think our relationship fell the moment I started missing you even when you were right in front of me.”

“You would still be working even when you were home.” You added painfully. “At first, I was okay with it. But then the distance started to feel as if you were still thousands of miles away.” 

You pressed your lips into a thin line, fighting back a sob. “Loving you didn't feel as easy as breathing anymore…It felt like I was losing myself instead, while you were constantly going.” 

With a shaky breath, you concluded. “...And I don't think I can go through that again without completely losing myself.” 

A long silence followed your words, the longest one yet since he called. And you knew that he was calculating every possible variable that could somehow change your mind and the outcome you gave him. Yet he couldn't. 

“...I see.” He said quietly. You heard a faint sound of shifting, not out of agitation, but out of resignation. “Can't really argue about that, can't I?” 

That was the part that made him feel ill to his stomach. Because he knew that the old version of himself would've, he would've calculated something, debated against it. 

But the present Senku couldn't. Not when he heard you admit about losing yourself again, because of him, out of all people. 

You shook your head as if he could magically see it. “No, you can't.” 

Your hand clutched the soft fabric of your bedsheets, and the painful realization that this was really the end settled through. “Take care of yourself, Senku.” 

He gave you a chuckle as an attempt to hide his dismay. “I should be the one telling you that.” 

You smiled bitterly, a tear escaping silently. “Hah? I wasn't the one living on instant ramen throughout my undergraduate degree.” 

He snickered. “As if your eating habits were any better.” 

You laughed, genuinely this time. Afterward, you called out for him using the nickname you developed after establishing your relationship with him. 

“Sen,” 

He hummed, already knowing where it was leading to. 

You hesitated, suddenly feeling weak again. This was it, there will be nothing else left except grieving the future you could've had again.

“...Happy birthday, please don't call me again.”

Senku's eyes shut right after. He saw it coming, so why did it still hurt him so much? Far worse than the impact of a moving train with its highest velocity. 

“I really loved you, y’know?” You sniffled. “I really admired you, too. You were always so amazing in my eyes, and I knew you could achieve anything with that never-ending dedication of yours.” 

“...I hope space felt like everything you ever wanted.”

And with that, you ended the call with trembling hands. Your body completely shook right after, as you hugged your knees tighter again out of desperation, your phone slipping out of your hand. 

The tears fell continuously, and each sob was louder than the previous one. At first, it was a strangled sound, then you were fully sobbing before you knew it. 

You fell sideways on your bed, body curling instinctively as you wrapped your arms around yourself as if you could keep yourself together, but you couldn't. Everything came crashing down, and nothing stayed in place anymore. Not your breathing, not your thoughts, not your tears.

Your hand reached for your phone again, part of you hoping that Senku would magically take back his words and go against your decision; however, you knew how his mind and logic worked. You still hoped anyway.

Yet no new call appeared, and silence still remained. And perhaps that was the cruelest proof that he truly loved you.

The act of choosing to let you go, even when he desperately didn’t want to, simply because losing you hurt less than ruining you further. 

January 4th had come to an end, making way for January 5th. His birthday ended, and somewhere between midnight and the last call, the two of you did too. 

Bonus:

The call ended at exactly 12:15 AM. And if anything, Senku thought the universe was mocking him.

For a long while, he just stayed where he was. Eyes glued to the floor after a tear had escaped without his permission. His jaw was clenched, and so was his fist. 

His mind replayed the conversation, especially the last thing you told him before ending the call. 

“...I hope space felt like everything you ever wanted.”

He wanted to respond and tell you that it didn't, it didn't feel like everything he ever wanted. Not when the only constant variable in the equation of his life had completely disappeared in the process of achieving it. 

The conversation hollowed him completely. The alcohol he had consumed earlier no longer aided him. 

Then, he heard the familiar heavy footsteps of Ryusui come closer.

“There you are!” Ryusui announced loudly as he walked towards him. “We thought the alcohol had finally caught up, and you passed out somewhere.” 

Senku clicked his tongue automatically. “Tch, as if.” 

Ryusui noticed how it was all bark and no bite. Yet he didn't ask, as Senku just followed him back to the private lounge where everyone else was waiting. 

When they entered, Taiju was the first to ask. “Senku! How was—?!” 

Taiju wasn't even cut off by Senku vocally, no. He was interrupted by his astonishment as Senku strided into the room, hand reached out for the bottle of Ryusui's strongest whiskey as well as his glass, already downing a glass full before anyone could say anything else. 

Everyone stared in shock at what had just unfolded. 

Ukyo frowned immediately. “Senku, you've had enough.” 

He didn't answer. He simply ignored the warning as his body slid back to his initial place before the call, the hand that didn't hold the glass folded to cover his eyes. 

Then, he chuckled bitterly, with every ounce of regret and dismay. “I screwed up badly.” 

Across from him, Gen's expression shifted. “That bad, huh.” 

Senku laughed again, but it was humorless before he took another gulp. “Hah, she told me to never call her again.”

The table fell silent. There was nothing to argue about, just the acceptance of the two people who loved each other deeply, yet still failed to see each other till the end.

After a moment, Ukyo gently leaned to take the bottle away from Senku, and unlike earlier, he didn’t fight back. But that was mostly because something in his pocket felt unbearably heavy. 

That was when Chrome noticed something from the pocket of Senku’s pants, how come he had yet to notice it after hours of being in the same room?

“Senku, what’s that—” he halted, eyes went wide as his voice left him out of shock. 

That caught everyone’s attention as they shifted closer to have a look. Taiju was the first to see what it was since he was sitting next to him. 

“Is that?!” 

Senku snickered next to him, head falling back against the couch as if he was admitting defeat. “...Yeah, a ring box.”

The entire table froze, except for Ryusui, who looked at Senku with empathy, not bewilderment.

Chrome nearly choked, his hand flung up in the air. “The hell?!”

Everything suddenly made sense in a horrifying way. Why Senku was always overworking himself, the obsession over stability, projects, and the insane amount of pressure he placed on himself.

Ryusui sighed and finally decided to say something. “I told you waiting was a terrible strategy, Senku.”

Gen’s head whipped towards him instantly. “You knew?!” 

“Of course,” Ryusui’s eyes shifted from the shocked faces staring at him before they landed on Senku again. “Who do you think he dragged across three continents to look for the best lab that makes diamonds?”

Senku laughed in defeat, eyes meeting Ryusui’s. “Yeah, yeah, my calculations failed me on that one.”

Gen’s head returned back to him. “How long have you had the ring— and when were you planning to propose?!”

Senku sighed lazily, eyes drifting towards the ceiling. “Six months before she wanted to end things. I was planning to after my first trip to space, y’know, the sappy ‘I love you to the moon and back’ that she likes.”

Then he chuckled miserably. “Kept it with me ever since that night…It even made it to space.”

the evil little cockroach was planning on blowing up a girls' school while you were in line at the movies with your white-haired boyfriend. beep, spidersense.

naoya had been carrying out terrorist attacks across the country, and the idea of ​​catching the little bastard when he was in your city consumed you. in less than two minutes you managed to think of something: telling your sweet, understanding boyfriend you needed to change your tampon, dashing out to catch naoya and going back to watch the movie with satoru as if nothing had happened. all of that in the time it takes for the trailers to show before the actual movie. that is…15 minutes.

you look to your side to see an excited satoru yapping about how happy he was about this. he was holding your hand with one of his own while the other kept the popcorn bucket close to his chest. he adjusted his black frames on the bridge of his nose as he continued talking.

“i’ve been waiting for this moment since i was sixteen, baby. you have no idea. i haven’t read the last volume of the manga because i wanted to see it on the big screen, and it’s actually happening, like right now!” he looks at you and kisses your cheek. “and i’m so happy i am watching it with you.”

and the winner of worst girlfriend ever goes to you.

“i just really hope armin doesn’t die. he’s the coolest.” he adds.

the lady at the door of the movie theatre looks at you and pays attention as gojo hands her your tickets. behind her the neon lights adorned the movie poster: “attack on titan: the last attack”

“babe, i think my period just arrived. i’m gonna check if i need to grab a pad real quick.”

“but the movie-”

“i’ll be back before it starts! promise!”

except fuckass naoya wasn’t alone. one hour and twenty two minutes later, you came back to the cinema and sneaked into the dark room. you knew you fucked up when instead of listening to the movie dialogue you heard music and the lights were on. you went up the stairs to the seats you had reserved with your boyfriend, just to find an empty seat and a half finished popcorn bucket. you took out your phone and your fingers typed faster than your brain could process what words to say so your boyfriend wouldn't think you were such a shitty person.

and next week, it was sukuna’s fat ass with his little alien friends wanting to burn the fuck out of manhattan bothering your date night.

and you had to think about another lame excuse.

satoru gojo could be a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them.

gojo was starting to find your misterious disapearings quite suspicious. he has never ever been in a relationship before you, and you remember how difficult it was for him to slowly come out of his shell and show you his true sself to you. he started to grow insecurities. were you not in love in him anymore? did you find someone else? were you already seeing someone else?

he tried his best to erase those thoughts. afer all, the man was hopelessly in love with you. he could not think wrong of you even if he tried. but you just kept explaining less each time he asked what you were doing, and he noticed how careful you have started to act around him

and third, just a couple moments ago, it was big bum toji zenin fucking up your romantic plans.

now now, let’s get back to where we were.

you arrive at the infamous movie theatre. finally.

you land on an alley next to the big building to detransform and get back into your normal clothing. you grab your phone and check your time. 4:42 pm. fuck.

you were dying to tell him the truth.

but keeping him alive was more important than anything.

what if someone found out he was important to you? they would use that against you. hurt him, kidnap him, maybe even-

you couldn’t. this was your life to deal with. he had nothing to do with all of this. and it was better if he was not involved at all. it was safer, smarter. you would do anything to keep satoru safe, even if that meant making him hate you.

the next few days passed like a normal week. you noticed gojo a little bit more distant, but nothing really concerning. you thought about ending things with him the second your…job? started to get more serious. when creatures from other planets you suddenly had to finish off came along you understood you were involved in some serious shit. not just helping the old lady from the block get her cat back from the top of the tree (which of course you did too).

satoru spent those days thinking.

with this behaviours of yours, he had to think about a way to keep you. a way to get your attention back from whatever was distracting you from your pretty and thoughtful boyfriend, whatever was keeping you away from him.

he called choso up. he asked him what he thought about the situation. with a tired voice and a sigh, his friend replied:

“i don’t know man..jus’… make her jealous or something. that will piss her off”

choso kamo has never ever been in a relationship before. no one with a functioning brain would follow any romantic advice from him. with the sole exception of satoru gojo, of course.

so, first things first. how to make her beautiful girlfriend jealous? and most importantly, with who?

satoru thought, again.

shoko? would’t make sense, that’s your best friend.

utahime? yeah…no thanks.

it had to be someone he looks up at. someone almost impossible to bag. someone hot and attractive. he just wanted to give you a little taste of your own medicine. a little scold for ignoring him these days. of course he was not even close to thinking of cheating. he just wanted to get your attention, and he was willing to do the dumbiest shit to get there.

so, as he was walking downtown in the crowded new york streets, he found an answer. he looked up at the big billboard in front of him. there it was, he had it just before his eyes. red and blue all over the place.

someone he looks up at? check.

impossible to bag? check.

hot and atrractive? … oh mama, check.

who could be more accurate for this mission than the girl who stealed every manhattan men’s breaths? oh he could already imagine your face, all red and grumpy. he adjusted his glasses and crossed the street towards the magazine shop. the nice man greeted him and asked him what was he looking for.

“i would like that spidergirl poster, please. yeah, the big one.”

his words are followed by a disgruntled sigh and the sound of retreating footsteps.

you think you’re alone. you try to take a deep breath, a shuddering inhale that does little to calm the beating of your heart. you need to compose yourself enough to leave this disgusting bathroom and figure out how you’re getting back to your dorm. your ex is definitely not your ride anymore. your phone is dead, so no uber. and the thought of walking the mile and a half back to your dorm alone, in the dark, is terrifying.

your head snaps up as the lock clicks and the door swings open.

satoru is standing there, filling the doorway with his broad shoulders. he’s not wearing the obnoxious sunglasses you usually see perched on his nose, and his ridiculously blue eyes, the color of summer skies , are full of concern that seems so out of place on him.

“shit, sorry,” he says, his voice much softer than it was a second ago. “the lock on this door is whack. if you twist it enough it clicks open. i just wanted to uhh. . . you okay?”

you just stare at him, tears still trickling down your face. “i’m fine,” you lie

he doesn’t buy it for a second. he steps inside, closing the door behind him with a soft click, effectively blocking out the worst of the noise from the party below. he leans against the counter, giving you space.

“that was your boyfriend, right?” he asks, nodding vaguely toward the door. “. . . the guy you were yelling at earlier.”

“ex-boyfriend,” you correct, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, the skin coming away wet and smudged with black.

“ahh shit," he says sympathetically. “that sucks.”

“yeah,” you sigh, another sob wracking your body, “it really, really sucks.”

“don’t waste your tears on him,” he frowns, brows furrowing. “he’s not worth a single one, ‘kay?”

you look down at your hands, twisting a loose thread on your jeans until it threatens to snap. the small, repetitive motion is the only thing keeping you from completely falling apart again. “i don’t know what to do,” you admit, the words tumbling out in a rush, “we came together and my phone’s dead and i just. . . i can’t be here anymore.”

he’s silent for a moment and you brace yourself for the ‘sounds like a you problem’, the kind of dismissal you’d expect from someone like him. instead, he shifts, pushing off the counter to stand before you.

“fair enough,” he says. “first, we’re getting you out of this gross bathroom. then we’re getting you home.”

your head snaps up. “but—”

“no cuts, no buts, no coconuts,” he cuts in, and despite everything, a watery snicker escapes you. “i’ve got you. i’m not letting you walk home alone this late. i’ve been drinking, so i can’t drive, but i can walk with you. it’s not a problem.”

satoru gojo — the guy who’s rumored to have a different girl in his bed every weekend — is the last person you’d expect to show you even a hint of kindness. you’re not even sure if he knows your name.

“are you serious?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper

“dead serious,” he holds out a hand. for a beat, you just stare at his long fingers and neatly trimmed nails, then up at his face. he waits patiently until you finally place your hand in his.

he pulls you to your feet effortlessly. you sway a little, unsteady from the crying and the stuffy air of the bathroom, and his other hand comes up to steady you, hovering just above your elbow before dropping away,

a fresh wave of embarrassment washes over you as you catch sight of your reflection in the mirror over the sink. it’s worse than you thought. your face is blotchy and swollen, your eyes are rimmed red, and your mascara has created smudgy, black circles under your eyes that make you look like a raccoon. you groan, turning away from your reflection and pressing your face into your hands.

“i look awful,” you murmur into your palms, the words muffled. “i can’t have anyone see me like this.”

“‘s nothing a little damage control can’t fix,” satoru says, turning toward the sink and grabbing a few squares of toilet paper from the roll. he runs them under the faucet until they’re a damp clump. “it’s not the fancy skincare stuff you girls usually use,” he admits, holding up the damp wad of paper, “but it should work.”

he turns back to you, the wad of toilet paper balanced between his fingers. he takes a step closer, and you instinctively stiffen, your body tensing.

he moves slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away if you want to. you don’t. his fingers gently cup your jaw to hold your head still. his touch is feather-light, his thumb rests softly on the curve of your cheekbone and it’s oddly comforting. your eyes flutter shut as he gently dabs at the mascara smudges under your eyes. he manages to wipe away the worst of the mess without being too rough

“there,” he hums softly, dropping the damp paper into the trash and letting his hand fall away. you immediately miss the warmth of it. “better?”

you open your eyes and risk a glance in the mirror. you still look like you’ve been crying, but you no longer look like a character from a tim burton movie.

“yeah,” you sigh, your voice barely audible. “better.”

“good,” a small, genuine smile finally graces his lips

“why are you being so nice to me?” you turn away from the mirror to look at him directly.

“i don’t like seeing pretty girls cry,”

the words hang in the air between you, “oh,” you murmur, because you can’t think of anything tangible to say.

he clears his throat, his easygoing smile sliding back into place. “c’mon, let’s get you out of here.” he holds out his hand again, and this time you don’t hesitate.

satoru keeps a firm hold on your hand as he leads you out of the bathroom and back into the party. he uses his broad shoulders to part the crowd, people seem to naturally move aside for him. you keep your head down, focusing on the scuffed linoleum floor

just as you’re nearing the hallway that leads to the front door, a figure detaches itself from a group lounging on a nearby couch and blocks your path. it’s suguru geto, satoru’s other half, the vice president to his president. equally as infamous around campus.

“there you are, satoru,” suguru says, his eyes flicking from satoru to you, and then down to your intertwined hands. “toji and sukuna are talking mad shit again. come play beer pong with us.”

satoru doesn't even break stride, he keeps pulling you gently along. “maybe when i get back.”

“get back from where exactly?” suguru raises a brow, he glances at you again, a look of genuine confusion crossing his features as he tries to place you, and comes up empty.

satoru finally stops, letting out an almost imperceptible sigh. he tilts his head in your direction. “walking her home.”

the shift in suguru’s expression is immediate. his lips part slightly, his eyes widening as the pieces fall into place. he opens his mouth to say something teasing that would make your face burn with embarrassment. but before he can get a single word out, satoru is already shaking his head. ‘don't.’

suguru’s mouth snaps shut. he narrows his amber eyes, looking between your tear-streaked face, your clasped hands, and the uncharacteristically serious look on his best friend’s face. a knowing grin spreads across his lips.

“right, right,” he laughs, stepping aside and gesturing toward the door with a sweep of his arm. “you two have fun.”

as satoru pulls you past him, you catch suguru muttering under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear over the loud music “about damn time, you idiot.”

you don’t understand the full weight of his words

you don’t know that satoru has pointed you out to suguru countless times before, wayyy back during orientation week when you were all freshmen trying to figure out where your classes were.

you don’t know that he calls you ‘the pretty girl with the sketchbook’ . you have no idea that for the past two years, satoru gojo has been nursing an unrequited crush on you — the girl who always seems to be in her own world, a world he desperately wants to be a part of.

all you know is that the campus player is currently leading you out into the cool night air, his hand warm and steady in yours. and for some reason, it feels right

you catch a glimpse of your ex laughing with his friends by the beer pong table, completely oblivious. he doesn’t even notice satoru pulling you through the doorway. it stings, but it’s duller now

cars are lined up haphazardly along the street outside the frat house. people are sitting on the hoods, vaping, their faces illuminated by the blue glow of their geek bars. a few call out to satoru as you pass, but he barely acknowledges them. one of his ex-flings is glaring at you from the porch, whispering to her friends as she stares at your interlocked hands.

“which way?” he asks, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. he seems to realize he’s still holding your hand and lets go of it suddenly, shoving his hands in his pockets. you rub your arm nervously

you point to the left side of the street. “that way. it’s like, a twenty-minute walk on a good day.”

“cool,” he says, falling into step beside you. you walk in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the distant thump of the party fading behind you and the scuff of your shoes on the pavement. his eyes are fixed on you while yours are locked on the cracks in the sidewalk,

“so, what did he do?” he pipes up, then immediately seems to regret it. “actually nevermind i probably shouldn’t be asking that right now—”

“he’s been cheating on me,” you sigh, “he gave me his phone so i could text my roommate and i had a gut feeling so i went through it and—” your breath hitches

“oh fuck don’t cry again,” satoru frowns

“sorry it’s just . . . ”

“don’t apologize either,” he says, “none of this is your fault.”

“we were together for eight months,” you sigh, the admission feeling heavy in the cool night air. “i thought. . . i don’t know. i thought everything was good. i thought he loved me.”

“he’s an idiot,” satoru says, so matter-of-factly that it makes you believe him. “anyone who would cheat on you is either blind or just plain fucking stupid.”

“you’re just saying that to make me feel better.”

“nah i’m saying it ‘cause i mean it,” he shakes his head.

you don’t know what to say to that, so you just smile at him with your watery eyes and he swears he feels his knees buckle. even with puffy eyes and a quivering lip you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

he musters up a smile and looks away, a faint blush creeping up his neck. you keep walking. the cool early spring air caresses your cheeks, carrying the smell of petrichor from a recent rain shower. you don’t notice him staring at you, or the way his gaze softens as he watches the streetlights cast your face in a fluorescent hue

you frown down at your phone. it’s completely dead and he wishes he’d offered to charge it for you in his room at the frat house so he could’ve spent more time with you. he wants to spend more time with you. he knows he may never get the opportunity again.

he’s grinning like the cheshire cat when your stomach lets out a loud growl and you look positively mortified.

“you hungry?” he asks, as if the answer isn’t obvious.

“a little,” you nod meekly, your stomach rumbling again in agreement. the crying and the vodka have made you feel hollow.

“me too,” he says. “there’s a konbini a couple minutes away, we can grab something to eat if you want.”

you end up stopping at the konbini. the store is a stark contrast to the cool darkness of the streets. you wander the aisles, your eyes landing on a shelf of instant ramen cups. nothing sounds better than a salty, savory meal

“ramen?” you ask, holding one up, “i get this brand a lot”

“you’ve got good taste” he says, grabbing one for himself. “i like this brand too”

you end up with a cup of spicy ramen, a strawberry milk, and a box of cookies n cream pocky. he grabs a bottle of water and pays for everything before you can even pull out your card, waving away your protests. he uses the hot water dispenser by the door to prepare your ramen, handing it to you with a pair of chopsticks, his fingers brush against yours.

you eat sitting on the curb outside the store, the steam warming your face. it's the best thing you've ever tasted.

“i feel bad for dragging you away from the party,” you say between slurps. “i’m sure your girlfriend is wondering where you are.”

“nah, i don’t have one,” he shakes his head, taking a sip of his water. “not really my thing.” he regrets the words the second they fall from his lips.

“not your thing?” you raise a brow. “you’re notorious for having girlfriends.”

his eyes crinkle as he laughs, a genuine, bright sound. “i’ve never had one.”

you don’t seem convinced.

“i’ve had girl friends,” he says, “i don’t really do labels.”

stop. fucking. talking. he groans internally.

“someone’s got commitment issues.” you hum

for most people? yeah. the thought of a relationship with the girls he fools around with makes him break out in hives. but you? he would commit to you in a heartbeat. he’d do everything under the sun and then some if you asked him to.

a cold breeze picks up, rustling the plastic bag from the konbini, and you shiver.

“cold?” he asks, already shrugging out of his jacket before you can answer.

“no, i’m fine,” you lie, your teeth chattering slightly, betraying you.

he drapes his jacket—a black and crimson varsity jacket with the frat’s letters stitched on the chest—over your shoulders. it’s heavy and warm, and it smells like him, a clean, sharp mix of cologne and something sweet, like vanilla

“i don’t need it,” you protest, even as you snuggle deeper into it

“you do,” he says, his voice soft. “it’s cold out.”

you accept defeat, finishing your ramen with his crossing jacket around you.

the rest of the walk passes in comfortable silence. you don’t feel the need to fill it with small talk, and he doesn’t seem to either. it’s just the sound of your footsteps on the pavement and the hum of the city. his jacket is a heavy around your shoulders and you find yourself unconsciously pulling it tighter.

before you know it, you’re turning the corner onto your street. your dorm building is a few paces down, tired-looking brick walls and a flickering porch light that casts long, dancing shadows on the sidewalk.

“i didn’t know you lived in the dorms,” he says, looking up at the building. he shoves his hands in his pockets, his thin t-shirt clinging to his frame in the cool air.

“mm my family lives a couple hours away, it’s convenient,” you mumble, suddenly feeling shy.

you trudge up the concrete steps together, the silence stretching between you. you fish around in your pocket for your keys, your fingers fumbling with the cold metal. you finally manage to get the key in the lock and push the heavy door open.

“well,” you start, shrugging out of his jacket. “thanks. for everything. really.” you hold it out to him. “i appreciate you walking me home. and paying for my ramen and stuff”

he looks at the jacket in your outstretched hand, then back at you. he doesn’t take it.

“keep it,” he says. what he doesn’t say is that it looks better on you than it ever will on him, the way the crimson fabric brings out your eyes, the way you seem to swim in it, small and delicate.

“what? no, i can’t. it’s your crossing jacket.” you feel heat rise to your cheeks. “isn’t this like, a huge deal for you frat boys?”

“yeah well. . .” he says, a small smile playing on his lips. “i need a reason to see you again,” he says, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners.

you blink at him, completely taken aback. “oh. . right”

“yeah,” he says, rocking back on his heels. “get some sleep.” he gives you one last smile before turning and walking away. you watch him until he turns the corner, his silhouette disappearing into the night.

you stand there for a long moment, the cool air raising goosebumps on your arms, before you finally turn and head inside. you shut the door behind you, leaning against it for a second, letting out a long, slow breath.

you shrug the jacket off your shoulders, intending to just drop it on a chair, but as you do, something slips from the inner pocket and flutters to the floor. it’s a small, crumpled piece of paper.

you bend down to pick it up, it’s the receipt from the konbini. you’re about to crumple it up and toss it towards the trash can, but you see the faint blue lines of ink on the back. in messy, scrawling handwriting is a phone number. and underneath it, a short message:

keep the jacket!!! text me if you wanna hang out some time - satoru :p

you stare at the note, a soft smile spreading across your face, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. satoru gojo is so , so much sweeter than you expected.

intro. the shoes

If you had asked Mackiah what his plans were for the summer, he would have answered the same as the last few years: hanging out with his friends, maybe planning a trip to his parents' beach house. The only difference from previous years was that this year he had to add filling out college applications to his to-do list, but he wasn't in a big hurry. Three months is a long time.

He comes down the kitchen, the first day of his summer vacation, preparing for Kyrell and Seungmo to come occupy his house for the next week, when he sees it. 

A pair of converse by the entrance. 

Not his sister’s white pair. Not big enough for it to be his or any of his friends that raided his home unannounced. Worse. 

“Long time no see, Kiah” that voice. He was sure he could recognize it anywhere. It haunted him in his best dreams and his worst nightmares, though it wasn't much of a nightmare if you were in it anyway. 

“Didnt know you were back” if there was a thing he didn't understand, it was how a person can only become more beautiful with time. He'd hoped his stupid crush would have gone away the year you spent studying abroad, but damn, doesn't distance make the heart grow fonder.

And so, as you chat about your time away from his family, he mentally adds another thing to the list.

✓ Make sure his sister's best friend realizes he's the one for her.

chapter one. harmless flirting

You two weren't your typical best friend story, growing up together, knowing each other since kindergarten. Your story with Kenzie began when your family moved to town when you were fourteen, the year you started high school. She was the girl tasked with showing you around, and since then you've been joined at the hip, like two peas in a pod.

From sleepovers to shared friend groups, first relationships and first heartbreaks, first days of school to graduating together, it seemed like the two of you couldn't be apart. You fought and made up, like any best friends would, but you always came back to each other. The only thorn in your relationship since the beginning had been the same: the crush her brother had on you, only seeming to intensify over the years. 

It all started the first time you went to their house. It was the year you moved there, and you didn't know if it was the superiority of starting high school or the rush of turning fifteen, but the idea of hanging out with a younger boy who was still in middle school seemed repulsive, and your new friend seemed to agree, even more so when said boy was her brother.

Your disgust at him did nothing to deter him, making any excuse to be in the same room as you, showing off in a way that you can only find in a nature documentary about peacocks, making his interest known since the first meeting. 

Sure, he'd always been cute. If you had met him under different circumstances, at fifteen, you would have been head over heels with the boy with the Australian accent and the band. It was a recipe for disaster and the closest you'd ever get to dating Calum Hood.

At the same time, there was something extremely humiliating about the prospect of liking your friend's younger brother. For God's sake, he was still in middle school! So you decided that acting repulsed by his actions was the way to go, which seemed to please your annoyed friend and fuel his need to prove himself worthy of you.

You thought that at some point it would go away. That he would start high school and move on, probably date some pretty girls, and, even if the thought alone gave you a sinking feeling, you wouldn't waste time thinking about it. You already had your eye on some of the current seniors, since now that you're a sophomore, you actually had a chance with them.

That point never comes. From the moment he started high school, going the same as his sister, and to your demise, you, he marks his stake on you, claiming you for every man and woman present and to come to know that you are his. From inviting you to homecoming, winter formal, and prom when you were allowed to attend, to multiple love confession during the years, even following you through the different clubs and events you joined, he made his love for you clear for everyone.

Your pain didn't end there. After a year of pining over Jiho, an older boy that's pretty, talented, and really nice for being a seventeen year old guy, he makes the worst mistake a man trying to date you could do. He befriends Mackiah, and suddenly bro code comes first, even though you were there before him, and now you can see the guilt on his face every time you approach him after that. You could barely interact with your classmates without Mackiah making it his personal mission to befriend them, making sure to tell them just how in love he is with you before any of them could even consider thinking about it.

Your high school years were the lowest point in your love life, only scoring a boyfriend from the school across town, someone Mackiah couldn't possibly know or befriend. That lack of knowledge didn't stop him, his comments under his posts assured him that you deserved better, and that he was the superior option. 

That was the first big fight you had with your best friend, and the first time Mackiah apologized for his behavior. 

You were distancing yourself from their family, in hopes of calming the waters in your relationship. But you should have known Kenzie was never the type to let go without a fight. So, pulling his ear along the way, she made her brother kneel in front of you and promise not to harass your boyfriend, current and future, even if he won't approve of them (which earned him a slap on the neck from his sister). And although you returned to their normal life, your relationship with Mackiah had shifted.

He tried to keep a distance from you, but you still could feel him lurking. He still tried to get you to go to dances with him, and his likes were constant on your posts, but the comments and replies had dwindled. He no longer followed you to your clubs and extracurricular activities, but showed up alongside his sister to every important event. He no longer tried to convince every guy that approached you to not date you, but he did beat up your ex when he found out he had cheated on you.

Honestly, you couldn't find it in yourself to be mad at him when he appeared on your doorsteps, knuckles bloody, rambling about how you deserved better, deciding that bandaging him up and thanking him by pressing a quick peck to his cheek was the way to go. Look, you may have found him attractive, but that just meant you had working eyes! Even if you liked him (which you didn't) you would never do that to her. But there's no problem with a little harmless flirting, right?

chapter two. hot as ever

There you were, sitting in his kitchen, drinking a coffee with him. Lord was this the domesticity he yearned for. Mackiah swore he was still dreaming cause there was no way you were back. In his home. Having breakfast with him as if nothing had happened. 

“Have you decided which university you’re going to apply to?” you ask, taking a sip as you look around the kitchen, taking in the small changes that have happened in your absence, trying not to stare at the boy in front of you, who's probably changed the most.

“Not really, I have time,” leaning against the counter trying to act nonchalant as he feels your eyes dart to his arms. “Why, scared I will follow you around the world?”

“It would be a waste of time, since I’m coming back anyway”

His eyes lit up at the prospect, and you could see he was trying so hard to hold back a smile, "What brought you back?” he asked, finishing his drink to disguise his reaction. 

“I completed the program, and although they offered me to finish my degree, I can do it here, and honestly, I missed this place.”

”I’ll take that as you missed me” he says smugly.

“Of course you will,” you laugh, looking at him with a certain fondness you have reserved for him only. “Didnt expect anything else from you”

He clears his throat, trying to not let your gaze get to his head. “My sister is coming back around lunch time, but don't worry. I can keep you company until then” he winks at you teasingly as he turns to wash the cups you had used. Had he started going to the gym while you were away? Because you don't remember his arms being this defined, or his back being this wide, not that you paid attention to it anyway. 

You spent the rest of the morning trying to help him with his college applications, though little progress was made, as he seemed way more interested in what you had done this year away, and whom you had met. Unfortunately for him, you easily ignored his prying, forcing him to change his strategy and only fill out the application for the university you were transferring back to.

At some point, the home invaders he called friends arrived, and to his distaste now you could ignore him under the pretense of catching up with your old classmates. The same ones he stole from you, now were taking you away from him with vapid talk about old high school drama and career courses. If looks could kill, Kyrell would have been dead by now. 

To make matters even worse, his sister arrived, and after a few minutes of squealing, hugging and a few tears, you were taken captive to her room, away from him. 

As you walk up the stairs, he can hear Kyrell mutter, “She's still as hot as ever” which earned him a punch to his arm and a laugh from Siyun.

chapter three. slip by

“You didn't tell me you would come back” your friend protests as soon as you finish settling into her room. Barely anything had changed, and the few little things that had been had your opinion given on them, even from across the globe. 

“Well, it wouldn't have been a surprise,” you joke, lying on her bed as she begins to remove her makeup. You missed her terribly.

"It didn't need to be a surprise, you could have just told me," she complains, slumping into her desk chair. "Besides, it's not fair that Mackiah saw you first. I'm your best friend, not him!"

You laugh, they always had a strange competition to see who would get your attention, and your friend almost always won. "You didn't tell me he'd dyed his hair, I barely recognized him." You remember his now blonde hair, a change (more than approved of), although you still preferred his natural color.

"I didn't think it was necessary. After all, you have his social media," he said, not very interested in updating you on his brother's life.

"I don't pay attention to his social media." Of course not, too scared of slipping up with a like on a story and triggering what would probably be the worst butterfly effect in the world.

"Knowing how often he’s in your replies, it's weird that you don't," you gasp, throwing a pillow at him. While the accusation was true, having his name in the likes section as soon as you posted something, you were almost certain he even had your notifications turned on, You still were very much afraid of ever stalking his profile. 

“God. No " liar. You were interested, maybe not in a proactive way, but at least in an innocent way you were. Curiosity killed the cat, they say. 

“I guess he’s still single,” you say, trying to sound as disinterested as possible. You didn't know why that mattered, but you hoped the answer hadn't changed since the last time you were there.

“Girl, I don’t think there’s a woman who hates herself enough to be with him as long as you exist on the same planet as him,” she jokes, removing her makeup. “Don't tell me you're interested,” she gasps, pointing a cotton pad at you accusingly.

“God. No " liar. You were interested, maybe not proactively, there wasn't any harm in asking, it's not like you liked him.

“Well I need you to be,” she joked, making you raise an eyebrow at her request, already preparing yourself for whatever crazy idea had gotten into your friend's head. There was no way anything healthy would come out of this conversation.

 "You know I'm seeing Kamden. He's finally coming back from college, and is probably going to be here everyday with fuckass Mackiah. I need you to entertain him enough to let us slip by”  she finishes, a sly smile adorning her lips. God, how infuriating she was. After years of complaining about Mackiah liking her friend, she goes and falls in love with one of the six dudes who are able to make her brother seethe and act the exact same way, and honestly, you have to admire the skill. 

You would do it, of course. You would kill for her if necessary. But wasn't this the same girl who screamed bloody murder at her brother, threatening any of his possessions and physical integrity when he did as much as breathed in your direction?

chapter four. drive you home

Movie nights were one of the traditions you had since you became best friends, and the first thing reinstalled once you came back to town. It was a requirement for your Friday nights to be spent binging random movies on her couch, snacking on whatever you could find. 

In parallel tradition, there was the ritual of Kenzie forcing Mackiah to leave, with various complaints from him about how ‘it was his house too’ and ‘is not fair for you to get the living  room every Friday’. There were times were you compromised, either moving to her room (to Mackiah's disappointment) or letting him and whoever was with him join in, usually Kyrell or Siyun, maybe Jiho (once Mackiah had deemed his presence around you not a threat), but most of the time just him, acting as if it was only the two of you, either lying his head on your shoulder or his arm resting on the back of the sofa, always trying to make a pass at you. 

Now, another Friday night at the Mercer household, and you are getting ready for a marathon of the worst horror movies you could find. By a miracle, Mackiah (and company, much to your best friend's pleased smile when she informed you Kamden was dropping by) were getting ready for some party. 

You occupied yourself making the snacks, your friend browsing the sketchy piracy sites you used to find obscure movies, probably hoping to catch a glimpse of the older boy who occupied her mind and instagram dms. 

As you finish the popcorn, you feel a presence behind you, breathing down your neck. Mackiah, of course, it seemed like he couldn't help himself if you were around.

“What you doin there?” he asked, chin resting on your shoulder, raising goosebumps where he had brushed against you.

“Popcorn” you answer obviously, and your breath hitches when you feel his arm brush against your waist, stealing a piece. 

“Would have loved to stay tonight” he mumbles, pulling away to rest on the counter beside you, "We haven't had a movie night in a while” he says, bumping your shoulder gently. 

“Whose fault is that? You are choosing to go partying with friends when you could be watching the killer gingerbread man with us” you joke, throwing a piece of popcorn at him. 

“Tempting, but I don't think Seungmo will let me skip his birthday celebration” he says, grabbing the projectile and popping it in his mouth. “Wait for me,” he asks, teasingly.

“In your dreams” 

“Oh, in my dreams you do a lot more than waiting.” he winks, teasing. As he leaves the kitchen, “You better be here when I come back.”

“No promises” 

It's not like you waited for him. You had watched the shitty gingerbread movie, then a romcom, and then another horror movie you couldn't even remember. You just happened to get caught over debriefing your year away with your friend. It's not like you were actually waiting for him. 

Kenzie had nothing to complain about since she also was staying awake waiting for his prince charming, busying herself analyzing the profiles of the guys you dated on your year apart, barely holding back on her appreciations, if you could call them that.

“You always had the knack of finding the ugliest ones.” your friend teased as you showed her a photo of an old fling. You laughed at her comment, barely taking offense. She had some truth to her words afterall. 

“Bad news for me then” Mackiah says as he enters the living room, startling both of you. He sits beside you, his arm resting behind your head. Following close behind him were the rest of the boys, some of them whom you knew, like Jiho, Kyrell and Siyun, having gone to high school with them, but some of them were the new addition, as Kenzie called them, and it seemed like you were missing out. 

“More like great news” his sister teased “You might have a chance now” this was the moment where you had to change the topic, because if you knew something about the Mercer siblings was how easy their bickering could escalate into something worse.

“It seems like the spare room is occupied for the night”  you comment after the parade of half-asleep half-drunk men finished walking in, dropping on different surfaces of the house. You didn't miss the way Kamden oh so casually sat beside your friend, who grinned mischievously in response.

You open the uber app to see if any driver close by would have mercy on you. Highly unlikely, considering it was Friday night and you weren't heading downtown. You feel him lay his head on your shoulder.

“Let me drive you home” he asks, and it sounds like he's asking you for a favor. 

“You are drunk, Mackiah” You really hope you can find an uber home. Even hitch-hiking didn't sound as half as bad as being alone in a car with him right now would be.

“No. Didn't drink cause you were waiting for me” he confesses, and you swear you could feel your heart stop. “Wanted to drive you home”

“I wasn't waiting for you” 

“Sure, keep telling yourself that” he teases, “So, want a ride? you know there's always a space for you in my bed if you want to stay” he jokes, and you know there wasn't an ounce of humor in his words.

“You know what, sure. You can drive me home” you give up, not wanting to keep staring at the tiny pin on the map getting ignored by the drivers nearby. Your friend owes you big time for this, and you better be the bridesmaid at their wedding.

His smirk only grows wider as he leads you to the family car and you want nothing but to wipe it off, hating how smug he looks about having won this one. It's the same car your friend learned to drive with, the one she got her license and took you everywhere with, now serving the same purpose with the younger Mercer. 

“You have your license, do you?” Of course he had it, knowing his mother there was no way he could even breathe close to the car without having the proper permits. 

“Of course, who do you take me for? a delinquent?” he jokes, throwing the plastic card to you as you sit on the passenger side. “Careful, I may look too good for your standard” He jokes, you sigh. God, Kenzie was asking for it.

“You look old,” you comment, looking at the photo as he starts the car. It’s not very good; the light reflects off his features in an odd way. It's even worse when you compare it to the real thing. You can see his side profile, focusing on the road as he drives. You can find glimpses of the boy you grew up with, now masked behind the facade of a handsome guy. They are still the same features, the same eyes and the same infatuation in his gaze, now more... mature, leaving behind his childish manners.

“I am older,” he comments. 

“You look forty in this photo Kiah” 

“...You really know how to bruise a guy’s ego”

“it's a talent” you brag, throwing the license on the dashboard. 

“Good, getting rid of the competition for me” he jokes, his hand patting your thigh before resting there, as if it was the most common thing in the world. You pretend to ignore it, and while looking away to prevent him from seeing your flustered face, you miss his pleased smirk at your reaction. 

The rest of the drive passes uneventfully, ignoring his grip on your skin. He lets you control the aux and you ask about shared friends. He pulls into your driveway, not hesitating to get out, opening the door for you.

“You didn't have to walk me to the door,” you scolded him. 

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you wander into the night, alone, unprotected?” he asks, one hand to his chest in mock offense. 

“The normal kind.” you say, fumbling with your keys “Are you saying I can't protect myself?”

“I’m not saying you can't, I’m saying I want to”

“You should head back, Mackiah,” you whisper, ignoring his confession. “Thanks for the ride” you press a fleeting kiss to his cheek, before quickly entering your house, not wanting him to see how affected you were by your own actions. 

Outside, he hopes you don't see the goofy smile that is plastered across his face. Or the fist to the sky, in a great Bender style, he does to celebrate this small victory. 

kenz <3: thanks for taking mackiah with you tonight 😽. I owe you one !

If only she knew.

chapter five. sticky

You never were a big fan of summer. You hated being constantly humid, the smell of sunscreen and not being able to exist outside without scorching to death. Your parents were never gracious enough to get you a pool, excusing themselves under the pretense of being too hard to clean, too time consuming and too dangerous, so they would dispatch you to Kenzie's house, which had the glory of present parents and a pool. And your best friend, that too. 

Things hadn't changed that much. After all this time, the plan still was the same, sunbathing by the pool, a jug of lemonade, teen magazines and all of the town's latest tea, with a side of Mackiah plotting on ways of getting your attention. The only thing that changed now was that instead of lying there staring at the sky or reading celebrity gossip, you were entertaining yourself with the impromptu volleyball game the boys had going on. Or at least your friend was, you being a mere circumstantial victim. 

“He's so hot” your friend says, probably referring to Kamden, you guess, since it seemed like it could apply to any of them. Had Mackiah gotten all of his friends off of a model catalogue? or do pretty people just exist around equally hot people? "Don't you think so?”

“I think Brian is hotter” you comment mindlessly, eyes skimming over an old magazine, way more interested in whatever drama Jelena had in 2014 than the never ending comments about her lover boy. You didn't have to worry about them hearing, they were so engrossed screaming over their match that you doubted they could hear their own thoughts. 

You let your eyes drift over to the guy in question, and honestly, you were right. He was tall, muscular, had a pretty face and an even prettier voice. The only downside you could think of was the Mackiah sized lump attached to him, who really admired him, almost like the brother he didn't have, which made your friend scoff at the sentence. And while you plan on to keep rejecting him, you weren't deranged enough to go after one of his closest friends.

After a few more comments from your friend worthy of a pg rating and an F in a Bechdel test, you decide to run away under the pretense of making more lemonade. Even though you loved her, if you had to hear any more about ‘how great Kammy is’, you'd drown her, or both of them if she talked about ‘his way with words’ once more.

You take your sweet time making the lemonade, enjoying your freedom while cutting the fruit at the slowest speed known to man, really not wanting to get back to the torture that had been your friend the past half an hour, thirsting over her half naked man.

“Let me help you with that” you hear someone say, startling you. Mackiah wastes no time, taking the lemon out of your hand, his bare chest brushing against your back. If you hated summer before, you hate it even more now. The feeling of his naked skin brushing against yours was driving you insane, making you think inappropriate thoughts about your best friend's brother. It was all summer's fault. 

“Got tired of playing?” you ask, moving to the side, partly to give him space to take over, partly because you needed the space, the brief contact making you feel delirious. 

“Had to see where my favorite cheerleader went” 

“I was hardly even paying attention” you say, staring at his hands squeezing the juice out of the fruit. There was no way you were thirsting over the guy you saw cry over math in this very kitchen.

“You still get the title,” he says nonchalantly, grabbing a new lemon. “Even if you were ogling at other guys while I was playing” he says, turning his face to look at you, his eyes scanning for your reaction. 

“I don't know what you are talking about” you say, trying to sound disinterested, but failing miserably.

“So you weren't staring at Brian?” he asks, teasingly, although you knew there was an underlying tone in his comments.

“No?” You say trying to seem convincing. 

“Are you sure?" he jokes. 

“You know Jiho was always more my type,” you retort, trying to put some distance between the two of you, the literal nakedness warping your common sense. How nice his shoulders looked, and how good they would feel under your hands when he… What were you talking about? He's your best friend's brother, for God's sake! There’s no world in which you should be thinking these thoughts, you slut.

You clear your throat, looking away, and you can see his pleased smirk through the corner of your eyes.

“Not much of your type but you still ogle at me like that” he teases, a mocking smile adorning his face. 

You groan in annoyance, slapping him on the shoulder, and he wastes no time grabbing your hand and pulling you closer.

“You can stare at them all you want, I'm not jealous,” his hands move up your arm, resting on your hips. You can feel his thumb rubbing circles on your waist, and you hope he doesn't notice the goosebumps that arise, or the heat that rises up your neck. “You know I’m still the best option.”

“I don't know, never been into younger guys” you really shouldn't let him be this close, even less letting his hand caress your skin, but you weren't the strongest warrior after all, and you would be lying if Mackiah now wasn't a real life adonis. 

“And maybe that's what you need” he teases, his nose nudging yours. He was so close you could feel his breath on your lips, almost daring. 

Just as you're about to retort, the door slides open, startling you both, prompting you to push him away. You turn to look at the source of the sound and find Kyrell standing there, a look of surprise on his face.

“I didn't see anything” he blurts out, shocked by the scene unfolding in front of him. 

“There was nothing to see” you answer, grabbing the jug and darting out of it. You almost kissed him. If Kenzie had been the one to walk in, you would have been minced meat faster than you could have said sorry.  

“I am gonna kill you” Mackiah threatened, turning to look at Kyrell who was still standing there, shocked.

“I deserve it,” Kyrell shrugs, accepting his fate. “But if it's any help, now I believe you have an actual chance” 

“I always have.” he says, staring at how Kamden and Brian were now chatting with you both, feeling the jealousy he once had towards his best friends reappear now towards the canadian.

chapter six. reflections

If you asked your friend growing up what the downsides of being born in the middle of summer were, she would tell you that never having a party with anyone besides you and a few other kids who didn't go on summer vacations was her biggest complaint. But now, after graduating from high school, summer is the only time of year when your friends are in town, always present at your friends' parties.

You had spent weeks planning it, buying the drinks and decorations, even going to the next town to get the dress she wanted, after all, you had last year’s to make up for, so you weren't on the ground for complaints. 

You were running late to the party. Sure, you were in the upstairs bathroom putting the finishing touches on your makeup, but people were already arriving. You hoped your friend would understand, since you were delayed by the almost impossible mission of making sure the guys hand the decorations the correct way. You should never leave seven boys with helium balloons unless you are ready for a rendition of Alvin and the Chipmunks.

You stare in the mirror, adjusting the little black dress your friend had thrown upon you, saying something about the dress code and how good it would look on you. It was a classic party dress, a stark contrast to her shimmery, silver one. The door bursts and Mackiah makes his presence known, mumbling something about a charger and annoying Kenzie before realizing your presence. 

“Oh, sorry” he says, leaning against the door, but something told you that he was everything but that, really appreciating the view as his eyes rake over your figure “...Nice dress” 

“Thanks, it's your sisters” you say, trying to not let his stare fluster you. He looked so good, blonde hair slightly messed up, black shirt unbuttoned. He looked like every girl's wet dream. 

“You should get changed,” he says as he approaches you, making eye contact through the mirror. 

“Why? Is there something wrong with it?” you try to not let his sudden closeness get to your head, even more as he closes the gap within you, pressing himself against your back. 

“God, no” he groans, his hands finding your waist, caressing your figure through the fabric “But it's not very nice of you to outshine the birthday girl.” he adds, a pout on his lips that you don't know if you want to punch it off or kiss it better.

“I don't think I could even if I tried” you say, half joke, half truth. While you were pretty, so was your best friend, and tonight, not even a Victoria's Secret Angel could compete with her.

“You could steal the show if you wanted” he says, turning his face to press the lightest kiss on your neck “You are easily the prettiest girl tonight”

“Kiah…” you sigh, letting your head fall back to his shoulder. You knew you shouldn't let this happen, that this would upset your friend, but honestly, you couldn't find it in yourself to care at the moment.

He hums, not halting his activities, way more interested in his hands exploring the curves of your body, as if trying to memorize them, and his lips tasting your skin. He would be lying if he said he wasn't thinking about this ever since he saw you in the kitchen that morning. 

Just as you are about to stop him, you hear a voice call for him, making him groan as he hears it, his forehead resting where his lips had been moments before. 

“I am gonna kill him” he mutters as he recognizes the voice as Kyrell, asking about that damn charger. 

“Dont, I like him” you tease, earning another groan from the boy.

“That's another reason. Just so you know” you laugh, expecting his answer “This isn't over.” He presses a fleeting kiss to your cheek, before leaving the bathroom as quick as he appeared, leaving you, eyeliner in hand, and a head full of thoughts.

chapter seven. his

Mackiah's life had been divided in two parts for almost as long as he could remember, before you and after you. He swears his life changed the moment you entered his house, even if you were just an awkward fourteen year old, he was still sure you were the most prettiest girl that existed (his own words). Ever since then he can't remember a moment in his life that you weren't his romantic interest, for better or for worse. 

He's liked you since middle school, when you were the only friend of his sister who didn't act like he had the cheese touch. He liked you when you showed him around the school when Kenzie stood him up for her boyfriend on the first day, he still remembers the pretty outfit you had, and the perfume you wore, the one you still use sometimes. He was in love with you when he heard your then boyfriend brag about talking to other girls, and he fell harder when you parched him up after he beat him up, even pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek after you were done. A more than worthy reward if you ask him. 

He still remembers the end of junior year, when you broke the news to his family over dinner that you were going to study abroad. While his parents congratulated you and his sister cried about how you were leaving her behind, he was busy thinking this wasn't how it was supposed to go. You were supposed to go to the same uni as him, realize he was the love of your life, graduate, marry and live in a white picketed house and have a dog. He had it all planned, which now was crumbling apart since it wasn't really that easy to make someone realize you are the person they should spend their life with when they are an ocean apart.

He acted like it didn't bother him, after all, it was just a dumb childhood crush, he was supposed to get over it a while ago, it was pathetic that he was as still as hung up about you like he was when he was fourteen. But when later that night he hears a knock on his bedroom door, opening to find you standing out there, in your pajamas and tear stricken face, looking as pretty as you always did, he accepts it hurts a little. It hurts even more when you hug him, hiding your face in his neck, sobbing about how you will miss him too. 

And it hurts because you are not his, not his to hold, not his to kiss, and hell, not even his to miss. There's no reason for him to be grieving the departure of his sister's best friend. You technically were nothing of him, you could have slipped past like all the other friends his sister has. You could have slipped past like every other girl has. Yet he couldn't seem to even entertain the idea of being with anyone else. It has always been you, and it feels like it will always be you.

Senior year came by and it started with waving you goodbye from the airport doors. A low point if you ask him. Not much happened after then, sure, he had the usual last year experiences. Senior parties, school dances, which didn't interest him if you weren't there to reject him, senior prank, last matches of the year, after all it was the end of high school. Entertaining enough but always missing something, or better said someone. The someone who even if she was on a different side of the world still seemed to hold his heart in her hands.

His feelings for you reignited anytime he was reminded of your existence, which was way more often than he had anticipated. Whether it was his parents asking how you were doing, instagram stories of the life you were living without them, to those congratulations messages you sent him on special occasions, like his graduation, still awkward, still with a lot of heart emojis, now with the added of arriving at weird hours.

He had thought about getting over it, after all, you hadn't particularly given him a chance when you were here, and now he wasn't sure he would get to be on the same page as you ever again. 

And then you came back. 

Having known you since childhood, you would always be his first real love, the older girl he liked, his sister’s best friend. He always had a rather innocent view of you, sure, you had some boyfriends, and he heard the comments boys had to say about you, but nothing could have convinced him you were anything less than a saint. Well, they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and you look hotter, it seems. He remembers his friends teasing him with how hot you were, mostly to irk him, and don't get him wrong, you were always the most beautiful girl in the world for him, but it was like he almost couldn't see it. But now, seeing you after a year, in simple jeans and a tank top, an outfit he had seen you in a hundred times before, he gets it. You are so attractive, in a way that feels slightly sinful, in a “cant even think around you” kind of way.

Something had shifted though, he could feel it. Sure, you weren't rude, but you didn't miss an opportunity to shoot him down. As nice as ever, it seemed like kill them with kindness was your life motto. But now, still as kind as ever, the banter that once rejected him had morphed into some kind of teasing included, almost like flirting. And he was inclined to believe, maybe deluding himself, that it meant he had a chance. 

If someone had told fourteen-year-old Mackiah that, at nineteen, he'd kiss your neck and you'd sigh his name in the prettiest way possible, not die of repulsion or hit him, he was sure he would have spontaneously combusted right then and there.

Waiting downstairs for you to appear had been a more than difficult task than he had foreseen, even if he was busying himself with finishing the music set up, his eyes still darted to the stairs, where any moment down you would emerge. 

To his bad luck, the moment you came downstairs, was at the same time his sister's friend group, the one you were a part of during high school, the one that you hadn't seen since like, forever. So from the moment you appeared, you had been held hostage by them, sitting between Keeho and Jiung as they catched you up on their lives, it seemed that getting you out of there would be almost impossible. 

He couldn't spend the whole night staring at you like a creep, so he busied himself with the task of the speakers, and the side quest of making sure Seungmo didn't end up puking in the backyard another time. It only takes the minute that he goes to get a cable from the garage for a disaster to happen. Only this time is not Seungmo ruining his mothers peonies again, it's worse. 

He sees it. You and Brian, chatting in the kitchen. He sees the way he leans closer to say some stupid thing that makes you laugh and slap his arm. And there's something about the scene that makes his heart break and blood boil. One of his closest friends and the girl he liked for years? He didn't know what hurt the most, you liking the guy he admired, that was everything he couldn't be, or the friend he considered an older brother dismissing his feelings like that, deciding you were worth ruining their friendship, after just knowing you for a few weeks. There was no way his summer crush came close to the way he felt about you. 

He feels annoyed, completely over this whole ordeal. The mere idea of you dating his friend ruined the whole night for him. He decides to head upstairs, not really in the mood for drinking and having to see you with him anymore. He makes sure Seungmo is babysitted, and the speakers are taken care of before he retreats to his room under the pretense of a headache for the rest of the night.

chapter eight. actual chance

“He really likes you, you know” you hear a voice behind you say, as you finish making yourself another drink for the night. You get a deja vu feeling, only to be slightly disappointed to find Brian standing there. 

“What? Who?” between the music and the slight alcoholic buzz you were feeling you could barely make out what the guy in front of you was saying. 

“Mackiah, who else would I be talking about,” he says obviously, “Not that you are unlikeable, but you know, he's the fan club president” he adds, earning a laugh from you. 

“And you weren't here during highschool, he was way worse” you say, taking a sip of your drink, “He really toned it down the last years”

“It must have been fun growing up with him” he teases, grabbing a can of beer from the table “If this is him toning it down I can't even imagine” 

“Have you asked Jiho about it? I don't think he has forgiven him even now”

“Oh he hasn't, he said you were pretty the other day and Mackiah ignored him for like a week straight.” he comments. “and it wasn't like, a compliment. No offense”

“None taken”  you say, knowing damn well how Mackiah acted, particularly with Jiho. “So, what brings you here?”

“Here in the town? uni. As for the kitchen? a question I need an answer to”

“Can I be of help?”

“I was hoping you had the answer” 

“Shoot me, then” you say, already imagining where this was going.

“Does he have an actual chance? or is he a lost cause?” He doesn't need to say the name, and you don't know if it's the alcohol in your blood or the easygoingness of the situation, but you found yourself actually thinking for an answer for once. 

“I don't know.” you say, after considering it for once “I feel like it's just out of habit, the costume of flirting more than actually liking me” 

“Are you kidding?” he says, barely able to hide his shock (more like annoyance) at your confession “That man is head over heels for you. I didn't even know his sister's name but I knew how much that man liked you. He gave Jiho the silent treatment for a week just because he said the obvious and the moment me and Kamden arrived he threatened us to not even think about it. Even before warning us about his sister” 

“Well that's one detail he forgot about” you say, eyes fixated on stirring your drink, suddenly feeling scrutinized under his gaze. You were ashamed at how stupid your concern sounded in the big scheme of things, everyone around you knew how much that boy liked you, and here you were, doubting him. 

“Dont even get me started on Kamden, he's head over heels for Kenzie” he confesses annoyed, probably tired of his friends love lives at this point, having part of his summer break plagued by them. 

“Really?” you say, interested in the prospect of your friend situationship having an actual future, completely not trying to shift the subject. 

“Dont try changing the subject, we are talking about something serious here.”

“I'm not changing the subject, I'm just finding out some new information” you murmur, fiddling with your glass, “Besides, why are you so interested in my relationship with Mackiah? It's not any of your business" 

“I have my personal reasons” he says nonchalantly as he takes a sip of his drink. 

“As such?” you ask, not grasping why this man you barely knew had ‘personal reasons’ with your love life.  

“We have a bet with the guys, and I might get a couple hundred bucks if I get you together by tonight,” he says, leaning closer as if he was sharing his deepest secret, not a dumb bet. “Also to get him out of suffering, that too”

“Selfish much, don't you think?” you tease, not expecting a bet to be the reason you were having this conversation in the first place. Thinking about it, you should have seen this coming.

“Isnt it selfish to keep him waiting around?” he leans closer, a teasing tone in his words “Common, put that man out of his misery”

“And if he doesn't want anything serious?” you say, lowering your gaze to your shoes. How stupid you felt needing reassurance in the things everyone deemed obvious. 

“Y/n, there's no way that man wants anything less than marriage and children with you. Have you ever talked with him?” 

You laugh, pushing him off jokingly. There's no chance you were actually considering doing it.

“There's no way he's not serious about you. For real” and while you barely knew the man in front of you, he seemed honest. Or maybe you just wanted to believe him. 

You nod, taking in the information. You weren't ready for this, but if you didn't do it now, you probably won't do it ever. You finish your drink in one go, gathering strength for a long overdue conversation. “Okay, but you owe me a drink if you win the bet” 

“Scouts honor” he says, crossing his arm over his chest, laughing as he sees you leave the kitchen in search of your man. Sure, he was happy his friend was getting the thing he allegedly has longed for for years, a chance with you, but there's a pang of jealousy in his chest at the knowledge that he probably would never get to know you more than this. 

chapter nine. habits

You'd never had such a hard time finding Mackiah. If he was in the same vicinity, he tended to orbit around you, always close by. You had searched every room, the bathroom, the garage, the front and backyard, and had no luck. You even asked his friends if they had seen him, but they had all last seen him in various places, none of which were where he was. It seemed as if he had vanished into thin air.

You decided to resort to heading upstairs, the ‘prohibited’ part of the party, albeit that rule never hadn't applied to you ever since they started throwing parties, 

You approach the last room to the left, the one with the stop sign hanging from the door. You can hear sound inside, but you can't make out if it's just music or conversation, so you opt for knocking the door. 

“I already told you I'm tired” you hear him grumble as he opens the door, barely peeking “Go away” 

“I didn't know you were tired” you could feel yourself shiver under his tired stare, there was no reason for you to be so nervous, it was just Mackiah for god’s sake! 

“I'm sorry, I thought you were Seungmo.” he says "What do you need” his tone comes out a little meaner than intended, the image of you chatting with his friend having soured his mood for the night. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something” you say, wincing at the shift in his tone. You couldn't remember a time he had talked to you in that way, and you didn't understand what made you deserving of it. 

“About what” he didn't even budge, still not opening the door, and you can barely see him or his face, just a little sliver of himself.

“Can I come in? I think it would be better if we didn't talk through a door” he nods, leading you inside. You sit on the desk chair as he throws himself on the bed again, clearly trying to ignore you, or at least not look at you. You take a minute to stare around his room, taking in the different posters and decorations. Basketball medals, diverse photos with his friend groups, one of his old garage band, and a few where you are included. They go from older ones, from his freshman year, to the ones of your graduation, the two of you smiling to the camera, his arm around your waist. He had used his birthday present to get that photo of you two, (you got him some cds of his favorite band, but fulfilled his request anyway), a space next to it where the photo of his graduation should be. 

“Why are you here?” he asks from the bed, staring at the ceiling “Is this about Brian?”

“What about Brian?” you say, thrown off by his question. 

“You like him, don't you?” he states, almost like a fact, and you can hear the pain in his voice. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“Common, he's older, handsome, and you literally said you find him hot. I'm not stupid” he says, the edge on his tone feeling almost like a knife to the chest “It's okay if you don't like me, but don't get with my friends” he adds, a look of something you can't quite place on his face, a mix between disgust and pain.  

“Where did you even get that from?” you ask, confused by his request, did he think you were here to tell him to back off?, and worse, did he think you really would date one of his friends? the one you only had one full conversation with? maybe you hadn't made your interest in him that obvious, but you couldn't imagine doing something like that, even less to him.

“I saw you in the kitchen, you looked awfully cozy” he murmurs, poison in his voice “You are here to tell me to give up? that you like him, right?” 

“Im not here to do you that," You say, trying to keep your nerves together.  “And we were talking about you back there, if it makes you feel any better” 

“What about me?” 

“He asked if you had a chance” he sat up, suddenly interested in the conversation you were having, no longer focusing on the ceiling. 

“What did you say” now he could hold eye contact, his eager eyes finding yours. 

“That I didn't know if you were serious, that I was afraid that it was a habit” 

“You really think this is a habit” he deadpans, an annoyed expression on his face, making you laugh.

“I mean, I hadn't really thought about it” seeing his reaction, you felt even stupider about doubting him, remembering every birthday gift he bought you with his allowance, getting more expensive once he got an actual job, every birthday note of yours he had saved in a box under his bed he would deny every time kenzie mocked him about it, or every message he sent you while you were away, congratulations on your achievements, greetings, or sometimes just a simple this reminded me of you with a random photo, maybe you just had gotten used to that treatment for him, not realising how much it actually meant to him.  

“Well, did you?” He asks impatiently

“What” 

“Think about it” he says, those five years felt like a children's game compared to the few seconds you took to answer his question, even if now he was sure he knew the answer. 

“I did” you say, going to sit up beside him on the bed, giving in slightly under your weight, forcing him to lean closer to you, you could feel his body heat beside you, only making your nerves worse. 

“So…” he says, turning to look at you.

“So…” you say, fidgeting with your hands. “What do you want from this?” you turn to look at him, his face way closer than anticipated.  

“Anything” he whispers, his eyes darting to your lips, “Everything, whatever you want.” He had been waiting for this moment for years, and he was willing to take any chance you give him to prove he was the one for you. 

“Whatever I want?” you ask, scanning his face. God, had he gotten prettier during the last few years, really growing into his factions, going from a pretty boy to the most attractive man you had seen, “And if I don't want you?” you ask teasingly, leaning closer, making sure to graze his lips ever so slightly. Any other time, that thought would have sent him in a downward spiral, but now, having you in his bed, almost kissing you, he honestly couldn't care less. 

“Then you should leave” he says breathily, “Because I don't know if I can control myself” He tried to give you an exit, a way out if you regretted this. You could walk out as if nothing had happened, sure, he would be devastated, but no one died from a broken heart. He would get over it and everything would go back to its natural course. 

“Good thing I do then” you confess, quickly pecking his lips. So fast that if he blinked he would have missed it, but it was there, and this time it wasn't a product of his imagination. 

You lean back slightly, to appreciate the expression on his face, the blush dusting his cheeks, his shocked stare like he couldn't believe what you were saying, staring at you like you had grown a third eye.

“Are you sure?"  he asks hurriedly, pulling you back against him “You like me?” he repeats, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort, of this being a farce. 

“Why wouldn't I?" you say, basically straddling him as he presses you against his chest, your hand brushing the hair out of his face "Don't tell Kenzie, but I had a little crush on you in highschool” 

“You are unbelievable” he says laughing, 

You nod, making him smile like a fool, “Just a little one”

“A little one" he mocks, his hands squeezing your waist “Had me moving heaven and earth for you to have a little crush"

“Had to make it worth it” 

“Oh you are so worth it” his nose nudges yours, finally leaning in, this time in a real kiss. His lips finally connected with yours and while you had your fair experience, kissing had never felt so good. How he sighed into your lips, to how his hands tightened around your waist, pulling you even closer. The way he gasped once you straddled his hips let you know the wait had been worth it, letting your hands explore his shoulders, feeling your sanity start to slip away once you feel his taut muscle move underneath them. 

“Wait, wait” he says, pushing you off slightly with a level of tenderness that makes your heart melt  “I have never done this” well, there it was. His confession made your breath hitch. He knew you had previous flings, and he had never been bothered about these types of things, but now, under you, he needed you to at least know. He needed you to know that he was waiting for you to realize that he was the one, for you to realize that this was how it was supposed to go, with him, no one else. You knew that he never had dated, and he didn't seem the type to have one night stands. But the confession that he had basically waited for you made you feel euphoric. 

“It's okay,” you say, pressing a peck to his lips, “Do you want to?” while you would respect whatever he wanted to do, you would be lying if the sight of him under you, disheveled hair and bruised lips didn't make you feel a certain way.

“More than anything” he whispers against your lips. If he hadn't dreamed of this moment he would be lying, and the mere idea of stopping seemed like dying right now. 

With that confirmation, you push him to lay down on the bed, deciding that you must show him just how appreciated his wait has been.  

chapter ten. leverage

You wake up to the sun shining through the window, turning over, trying to go back to sleep. As you move, you realize your pillow is suddenly more muscular... and longer... and has an arm around you... and can talk.

“Stop moving around, it's still early” he groans, his arm wrapping tighter, wasting no time pulling you closer, nuzzling his face into your neck, pressing a quick kiss.

“It's one pm” you complain, checking the clock on the nightstand. Your hand moving to his hair to stroke it as he basically drapes himself over you. 

“Still too early," he mumbles, nuzzling deeper. You shiver under his touch, suddenly reminded of the intimacy of it all, laying against his naked chest, in just his shirt and underwear. 

“I should go to the spare room before Kenzie wakes up” You say, already imagining the reaction your friend would have to the scene unfolding in his brother's room right now, knowing she would raise the roof if she found you half naked in Mackiah's bed. You attempt to get up, your hands trying to push him off of you, to no success. Even if it's an honest try, you fail, Mackiah holding you even stronger just to keep you tangled with him. 

“You are insane if you think that I’m gonna let you leave” he says, pressing tiny kisses to your neck “You know how long I have been waiting to have you like this?” 

“I have an idea” you joke, giving him better access “But she's going to kill you if she sees this”

“She has the audacity to get mad after fooling around with Kamden all sumer” you gasp, pushing slightly off of him to get a look at his face. 

“You knew!” you say, feeling slightly betrayed. 

“It wasn't that hard” he laughs at your reaction “Kamden can barely look at her without blushing, He’s whipped” 

“Why didn't you say anything?” you ask, curious why he hadn't tormented his sister back, having more than enough reason to do so after being tortured for years because of his crush. 

“Because I know how it feels to like someone he shouldn't" he says, his hand twirling with a strand of your hair. “Also because it lets me do this,” he says, pressing his lips to yours. 

You can't help but smile into the kiss, your hands finding solace in his hair, earning a groan from him.

“You are going to be the death of me” he says, turning you over so he's on top of you.

 “We should stop then” you say, breaking the kiss to mock him with a teasing smile. 

“Dont. Let me die a happy man” he jokes, resuming the interrupted kiss. His hands waste no time making his way under your shirt, pushing it up slightly. Your legs move to accommodate him in between them, giving him better access. He hurriedly presses against you, almost as if wanting to become one, pressing kisses down your jaw and neck, and you can't help but whine under him. 

To your horror, the door slams open. 

“Have you seen y/… OH MY GOD!” Kenzie, your best friend, his sister, had just gotten herself up to day with your relationship status in what, frankly, was the worst way possible. 

Mackiah lets go of you with a groan, turning to look at his sister, while you only could cover your face with your hands, not daring to face her. 

“How could you do this to me? She's my best friend!” she complains, stomping in a way that reminded you of her younger self, having a similar fight with her brother about who got to sit beside you at the movies.

“The same way you do it with Kamden” he retorts. “Now get out. He's probably waiting for you” he teases, earning him a playful slap from you. 

His sister stares at him stupefied, face whitening at the information that he knew. “Point taken” she says as she gets out, locking the door behind her. 

“Now where were we” he teases, a smile on his lips as he turns back to you, pressing his lips back to yours.

outro: knew it was you

It's an awkward afternoon at the Mercer household. Well, more like night since it was way later when you both finally emerged from his room. You make your way to the kitchen, ashamed of your actions earlier in the day, not that you regretted it, but your friend having found you in such a compromising position made you wish for the earth to swallow you, even more when you looked at Mackiah and he had the smuggest look in his face, grinning like he had won the lottery.

As you enter the kitchen, you see the boys are already there, in diverse levels of dishevelment. Jiho laying on the counter, Seungmo on the floor, you had to double check if he was breathing, Siyun sleeping on the couch, Kyrell and Brian are the only ones who look awake and alive, chatting with Kamden who's drifting off on your friend's shoulder. 

A silence interrupts the conversation as you sit on the aisle, Mackiah getting coffee for the both of you. 

“Well look who decided to appear” Kyrell commented, earning himself a groan from you as you hid your face in your hands, not ready to face the relentless teasing that was awaiting for you. Mackiah laughs as he sits beside you, passing you a mug filled with coffee.

“Slept well down here?” he asks, feigning innocence and you never wished so bad that the man had an ounce of shame. 

“Probably, not as good as you” Jiho comments, earning himself a slap on his neck from Brian, an easy task given his position laying his aching head on the cold counter. He groans, probably feeling the effects of the questionable amount of alcohol consumed last night. 

Breakfast, or dinner, given how late you actually were eating, went without anything major happening, besides the relentless teasing from the guys, directed mostly to the boy beside you, who smiled bashfully every time they mentioned you as a couple, not even bothering to deny the down bad allegations.

Even if everything seemed alright, you could tell something was bothering your friend, who was pretty silent, laying her head on the shoulder of Kamden. While she said some comments and laughed along, you could tell she wasn't as cheerful as she usually was.

As the guys left the kitchen, something about a sports match that you really couldn't find yourself caring about, Mackiah finally letting go of you, not without pressing a kiss to your forehead before heading to the living room, leaving you and Kenzie alone in the kitchen.  

“Are you mad?” you ask, already knowing the answer. God, you felt like the worst friend alive.  

“I'm not mad, I'm just… sad” she says, and the tone of her voice makes your heart break. You knew this was a big deal to her, her best friend and her brother, you understood where she was coming from, even if you didn't fully agree with her ways. 

“I'm sorry, but I really like him”  you try to rationalize, knowing nothing you could say would make it better in the eyes of your friend. “I never wanted this to go this way.”

“I know,and I feel so hypocritical being mad at you dating him when im seeing his friend” she says, tears swelling on her eyes “but I can't help to be upset you choose him”

“I didn't choose him” you say hugging her, also starting to feel your own tears fall down your face “You still are my best friend and that won't change, even if I date your brother.” 

“Yeah but now you are also his girlfriend” she says, laying her head on your shoulder, swallowing her sobs as she continues “And every time you come I will have to share you with him” she adds, sobbing harder.

You laughed at the sheer childishness of it, understanding where she's coming from. “You already did” you try to comfort her, “If anything, maybe now he will finally leave us alone” you try to show her a positive side.

“I feel like I'm going to lose you, what if he hurts you? and you never want to see me again?” she weeps, 

“You don't have to be afraid of that, you won't be able to get rid of me that easily” you say, patting her head, after all, her fears were lowkey valid, even if you highly doubted Mackiah would do anything to hurt you “Also I trust you will avenge me” 

She laughs in between sobs, laying her head on your shoulder “You really like him, don't you?” 

“A lot” you say, a sad smile on your face. You hated the idea of ruining your friendship over a relationship “I’m sorry”

“Don't. God this is so selfish of me” She laughs, cleaning her tears on the back of her hand. “I'm happy for you, I really am. I'm glad you get to be my sister in law” she says, grabbing your hands. 

“Im really glad you allow me to be” you respond appreciatively, hugging her as she calms down. 

Once her feelings calm down, you pull away, deciding to make some instigation of your own. 

“Okay, now you have to tell me what is going on with Kamden” 

Later that night, you find yourself lying on Mackiah's bed once again, head resting on his chest as his hand plays mindlessly with your hair. 

“I cant believe you are really here” He confesses, his hand trailing down your back.

“Back in the country or in your bed?” You joke. 

“Both, even though the bed part shocks me more” 

You snort at the comment, a comfortable silence falling over you, you can hear his steady breaths, only accompanied by the fabric rustling as his hand keeps its movements. 

“Im really glad it was you” you say, turning to look at him. 

“I always knew it was you,”

You turned on your bed, tossing your book onto the mattress as you turned to look at Minju, your roommate, who's currently typing away on her computer, cramming for the last test of exam seasons, meaning that after this week, you were free for all of the next month, you free to fool around all you wanted. 

“The guys are throwing an “end of first exams” party” you inform as you turn her chair around, earning yourself a groan from the girl. The guys in question were your friends, a bunch of “brothers” over at the Alpha Mu Omega frat, they were the most normal version you could get of them, but they were still frat boys, so while you really loved them, and they were the some of the nicest people you had known, they came with the added torture of having to go get your car washed by them and their half naked brothers, being forced to participate in their projects and attend their parties.

“You just want to go see Jiho,” she complains, and you don't even try to correct her. Right. 

Jiho.

He was your best friend, you had met in orientation when you asked Brian, one of his friends, where the secretary of student affairs, since you had trouble validating your high school diploma. He interrupted your conversation, and with the flirtiest tone a man could muster offered to lead you there. You had been warned of guys like him, pretty boys with the ego worthy of a Greek god, but when you saw him, you honestly couldn't care less. He pulled all the stops, trying to secure a place for his number in your contact list. You didn't budge, thanking him with the most awkward smile you could offer, before leaving him standing there, in the hallway. That only fueled his determination, since he seemed to infiltrate every aspect of your life. First it was discovering he was living on the same floor as you, much to your demise, then it was tagging along with your new friends, even if he wasn't in the same course. It was only a matter of time till you two actually became friends, leaving that weird tension behind. Or so you thought. Looks would last longer than needed, fleeting touches would linger, always seeming to find a way to be just the two of you. It seemed like everyone was aware of it but you two. 

It wasn't like you didn't find him handsome, and you would be lying if you said his personality wasn't attractive. But that was just Chejo, your best friend. By now, he had pulled countless all-nighters with you, cramming for finals, seen you in health and sickness, even that time you had to go to class with the flu since you couldn't afford to miss it, he was waiting there with mint tea, even if he had classes on the other side of campus. Simultaneously, you had seen him flirt with almost every other girl on campus, and held his hair as he threw up after their frat parties. And while your relationship had started with him trying to flirt with you, he did that with everyone! you weren't special, and you really hit it off as friends right after, so you tried to not let it get to your head. He was just being friendly. 

A knock on the door takes you out of your thoughts, and Minju goes to open the door, letting Kyrell and Siyun in. 

“We knew you got the invite and since you haven't responded yet, even if you left me on read this morning, we are here to inform you that you are coming,” Kyrell says, sitting beside you on the bed as Siyun sits on your desk chair besides your roommate, who looks confused to the max. 

“What are you even doing in the building? You don't even live here?” She said accusingly, and she was right. He lived in the building beside the econ building, the one that didn't have working elevators during the move-in week, which you remember every time you go up the stairs, forever scared of getting trapped in it. 

“Oh we were hanging out with Jiho, he's just getting you some drinks” he says, mocking tone at the last parts. You ignore his teasing, choosing to focus on the conversation Minju and Siyun are having about the new recruits of the frat, study long forgotten. 

It's a matter of time before Jiho lets himself in, making himself home “For the pretty lady” he says, handing you a dr. pepper, your favorite drink. He hands Minju a diet coke, before moving Kyrell from his place on your bed, just to sit beside you. 

“You are going, right?" He says as he settles down, his hand going to rest just behind you, his whole body turning to face you. 

“Where?” you say, playing dumb. He probably wouldn't find it funny that the others had invited you first, claiming it was his duty and right as your best friend to be the one to inform you. 

“To the initiation party, we have some new recruits you will like,” he says, stealing a sip from your drink.

“Any handsome one?” you joke, grabbing your can back, hands barely brushing. 

“Not more than me” he teases, winking.

“That's not that hard of a challenge, y'know" you retort, sticking your tongue out. 

“Common, no one is hotter than me” he jokes, flashing you a thousand watt smile, and you would never give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him, even if you were lying to yourself about it, his ego didn't need more stroking.

“I don't know, Keeho is pretty hot” You say a little too loud, gaining yourself the attention of the rest of the group, you fluster, suddenly ashamed about your out of pocket comment. 

“We heard he asked for your number the other day” Kyrell questions, making Minju exclaim a ‘girllllll’ as she looks at you, shocked about the news. 

“What did he want?” Jiho frowned, he couldn't understand why his frat president needed to talk to you, out of all people. The way he sat straighter, turning to look at you made the other boys let out a giggle.  

“It was nothing, just needed help for the last bake sale” you remind him “Needed extra hands, and I agreed”  

“I would give him all the hands he needs if you get what I mean” Minju comments from her corner, making you laugh as you agree with her.

“Why didn't you tell me?” there it was. While your friendship was strictly platonic, there always were these types of slips, of “what ifs”, of possessiveness over something you didn't own. The kind that makes your heart skip a beat, and your mind race when you try to go to sleep. 

“Common, Chejo. It wasn't a big deal” you say, pushing his shoulder slightly “You were busy with class, and he just needs extra help. It's not like any of you know how to actually bake” 

“Next time tell me” he says, although it comes out more like an order, and you know you better follow it if you want to keep the peace. 

“Okay..” you answer awkwardly, making eye contact with Siyun who stares at you with a raised eyebrow. You shrug. 

Later that night, as you are reading the last pages of your book while Minju doomscrools on her bed, you hear her say.

“Its not normal for him to be jealous of you interacting with his friends” 

“Its Jiho, he's just like that”

“He’s not like that with any of his other girl friends,” 

“Well we are best friends”

“Best friends don't do that either” she says, plugging her phone into the charger “just think about it” and with that, she clocked out for the day. She turns around, facing the wall as she goes to sleep, a sleepy goodnight leaves her lips to which you hum in return, too occupied trying to shush your running thoughts about a certain boy with the last pages of your book. 

You liked Wednesdays because it meant having lunch with Hana, Brian's girlfriend. You weren't the closest of friends but you very much got along, even going as far as considering her part of your little group. 

As you finish your lunch, varying between class assignments and fraternity events, it seemed like you two were honorary members, with how often you ended up merged in their schemes. 

“I don't know how to decorate Brian’s cooler this year” she complains, resting her head on her hands “what are you doing for Jiho this year?” 

You choke on your food “What? I'm not decorating Jiho’s?” you say. Usually, that was a task given to their girlfriends, as a way of making them feel included in their world and traditions.

“Oh but last year you made that design, I thought you would do something new this year?” 

Right. Last year, during a hangout at his dorm you had doodled on it. You didn't think a shitty neo tribal and a monster sticker was in pair with the master pieces the other girls had done, led lights included, nor were you trying to replicate your one time masterpiece.

“That was just a dumb thing. I'm not making him a frat cooler” you say, maybe a little meaner that intended “It’s not like that between me and Chejo” 

“Oh” she lets out, “I'm sorry, I just assumed” 

“Don't worry, we get that a lot” you laugh it off. She laughs along still, confused, but the conversation shifts on what she was planning to do on the cooler this year, and just for once, you let yourself think about how cool (pun intended) it would be to do that for someone. Maybe you should try to get back into the dating scene. 

Baking sales meant chaos on the frat house, and for once, you were actually thankful none of your friends had chosen the option to live there. 

If there was one thing you considered worse than lab days, was having to organize a bake sale for a fraternity. You weren't even a part of it, but had gotten yourself involved with way too many brothers for you to go scat free during fundraiser week. It always had been a tradition for your uni to have a month for the sororities and fraternities to come along and have charity events, all profits headed towards diverse local causes. A noble initiative from your college. But what is Greek life without a little friendly competition? So soon it turned into which siblinghood could raise the most money, and then into what punishment would the loser get. Every year they get rowdier with bigger events, and even bigger donations. This time, you had been recruited with the task of forcing the newer members of your little Greek brotherhood that you didn't sign up for to make a short ton of cookies to sell. So with Mackiah, Seungmo, Soul and Jongseob in tow, you start the tedious task of baking, trying to prevent the dough from vanishing into thin air and one of them dying from salmonella poisoning. 

After a few tortuous hours, you finally get to join the older ones outside, all with different levels of tiredness from finishing their respective chores for the day. They are sitting around the faux bonfire, drinking and having a quiet chat. 

"There she is," Jiho says, smiling widely as he pats the space beside him, and you don't doubt he saved it specially for you. "We still have all four of them, right?" He teases, knowing how rowdy the younger boys could get, as he passes you his beer bottle. 

You nod, deciding to listen to the conversation, overstimulated after the yapping marathon you had just survived. Between Mackiah and Jongseob, you didn't know who spoke the most but damn it seemed like no one could keep up with both of them. 

"You are not dying your hair blonde, Brian" his girlfriend complains from her place on his lap, her hands playing with the dark strands of his natural hair, as she argued against the bleach. 

"Oh common, we all are doing it!" Kyrell argued from across the place. 

"You all are doing what?" You ask, lost on what they were talking about. 

"We all are bleaching our hair if we lose this year's comp." Jiho explains, using the moment to put his arm around you "Would you still love me if i was bleach blonde?" He asks, in his best damsel in distress voice. That action, and the way he looked at you, a certain fondness everyone but you seemed to notice, caught the attention of your respective roommates, who decided that this was more interesting than the lovers quarrel happening beside them. 

"Ew no, I don't like blondes" you say, faking disgust. 

"Wasn't your ex blonde?" Minju comments from a distance, clearly enjoying throwing wood to the fire as she smiles mockingly, taking a sip of her drink. 

"I don't see how that's relevant" you say, faking nonchalance as you steal Jiho’s beer again, taking another sip. You don't miss the way he analyzes your face, as if trying to find a sign of it to be a joke, any sign that it meant more. 

 "Oh so there are exceptions?" He teases, clearly enjoying your flustered state. You hadn't expected Minju to pull that card out, that traitor. 

"Sometimes. When I deem them worthy" you answer, trying to keep up with his teasing tone, even wiping your lip with your thumb, not missing the way his eyes fixate on the movement. 

"Oh I would make it so worth it" he mumbles. Almost a whisper. Like a confession. And you react the most logical way.

Pushing his shoulder and telling him he is so funny. And you miss how the collective of people around the bonfire mentally face palm at another failed attempt of getting you two together.

If there was something no one warned you about having a friend group of mostly young men was the amount of dumb bullshit you had to witness. Sure, sometimes it was actually necessary things they dumbed down, like the time they tried get a couch onto the third floor, failing miserably in diverse tries, but sometimes, like today, you had to worry if they were just really stupid, cause none of them told you why they thought setting up a what basically was log rolling as a fund raiser was a good idea. Not all of them were participating, seemingly some of them were aware of the mortality of their own bodies, but your favorite one seemed to be lacking that update. 

You would have liked to be able to say that your boys weren't the ones doing the fighting, that they were smart and were sitting beside you, drinking and laughing as bodies hit the water under them, but no. You see Jiho and Mackiah, the newest of the bunch, climb onto the log and grab their weapons, you can't help but let out a disappointed sigh from your place in the shadows.

You see how they pick and choose which pairing would go next, going around and collecting bets that were placed in favor of, and you reluctantly put ten for Jiho. You weren't willing to listen to his whining if he heard about how you bet against him, even if you did think Mackiah had the upper hand in this one. As they stand on the now wet log, you can't help but let your eyes wander over the older boy. You knew he had been working out, and had seen some of the results of it over time, sometimes when he ‘accidentally’ sent you gym pics, sometimes when he just existed, even if you would have to be waterboarded for you to accept checking him out. But now, under this pretext, you can let your eyes shamelessly wander over his figure, wet shirt sticking over his chest, highlighting his efforts. Blow goes blow comes, and you have to admit they lasted way longer than one would think. In a sudden move, Jiho gets the upper hand in a swift hit to the other knee, successfully taking the other boy down. Sadly, his victory is short lived, as in the way down, Mackiah hits his face with the end of the pole, bringing him down with him.

You wince when he hits the bottom of the pool, relieved once he pops back up, laughing and high fiving the younger. Moments later, you have both of them towering over you, droplets falling on your legs as they chatter excitedly, the adrenaline still rushing in them. 

"You are bleeding," you inform Jiho, squinting your eyes as you try to focus on his face. He has a small cut on his cheek, where the younger boy had hit him. He raises his hand, lightly wincing at the touch. "You have to get that cleaned"

"Come with me?" You sigh, getting up, you needed a drink refill anyway. You head inside the frat house, a way too pretty of a building for it to be doomed in enormous parties and constant chaos. He leads you to the main bathroom, where the first aid kit lived, plenty stocked to survive the men that occupied the house. He sits on the countertop, waiting for you to grab the iodine. 

It's a pretty shallow cut, but you still wanted to make sure it was properly taken care of, and if you left them to their devices they would a hundred percent just pour vodka on it and call it a day. You use a cotton ball, trying to ignore the closeness and his wandering eyes. 

“You should be more careful” You say, trying to cut the tension that has fallen between the two of you. 

“How else would I get to be treated with my favorite nurse” he teases, smiling. His hands make their way onto your waist, something more common in your relationship that you would ever admit. 

“Hanging out with me shouldn't be your self harm goal” you say, as you feel his hands move to the hem of your shorts, resting on top of the pockets. Way too comfortable of a move from your so alleged bestie. 

“If it gets you this concerned over me, it's worthy” He mumbles, and you could feel his breath against your lips. Again, something that you would ever admit to your friends that happened. 

“Next time I hope you break your nose” you joke, pressing an iodine wet pad to his wound, making him wince and squeeze your waist ever so slightly, "I'm not crowdfunding a nose job once you finally get what's coming for you”

“Common, I don't think any of them has it in them” he says, referring to the guys in his frat and the innate ability they had of organizing more dangerous activities they possibly could. 

“I highly doubt it will be any of them” you comment. “You probably will just flirt with the wrong girl and get your ass handed back to you.” 

“Dont think so” he says, making eye contact “I already have my eyes on a girl”

You don't even answer, deciding the smart thing to do was ignore his comment, throwing the used cotton. That answer had settled a small doubt in your mind, but you won't worry about it right now, way more interested in not falling to your desire for the boy in front of you.

“As good as new” you tell him, his hands leaving a quick squeeze to your waist before standing up, closing the space between you two even more. 

“Thanks pretty,” he says pressing a quick kiss to your cheek, “We should get back before they get the wrong idea"

You thought frat car washes were something that only happened in movies. That there was no way someone would trust a bunch of boys with their cars. But after being quoted around fifty bucks for the simplest package at the only establishment in town, you realized that maybe the frat wasn't that bad, even less when you actually knew the guys, and would probably get the job done without wasting a cent on it. 

You pull up in your car. A second hand beauty that you had gotten after working your ass off for a few summers working diverse jobs. You loved it, loving having a physical reminder of all the hard work you did. Since you loved it so much, you were starting to regret your place of choice since as you drive in, you see Intak and Mackiah trying to dry a poor car using a very wet Seungmo as a towel, sliding him around the car, much to his complaints. 

Before you can turn and bolt out of the place, you hear a knock on the passenger side window. 

“Is there anything I can do for the pretty lady?” Jiho asks as you open the window, leaning against the door. 

“Let her leave?” you half joke, now contemplating if saving those fifty dollars was worth sacrificing your car’s integrity.

“I don't think so” he teases “I like the view way too much to let go that easily” he winks, making you rethink just how bad you wanted to throw that goddamn sponge at him.

He walks around the car, opening the car for you like the gentleman he is, and opens the door, you take a minute admiring the view of him, in jean shorts and a slightly wet tanktop. God, you weren't the strongest soldier. 

You hand him the keys to your car, getting out, not before threatening his physical integrity if something happened to your baby, to which he had the completely platonic answer of “as long as you do it, I probably will love it” with the nastiest smile a man could muster. You were starting to get why Minju insisted it wasn't a normal best friend relationship.

You sit at the table that was working as the cash register, where keeho and kamden, the frat vice president, were in charge of the money. You sit besides them, chatting about midterms and professors for the next semester. After enough time has passed to have you sweating your ass off under the afternoon sun, you offer to go get some beverages from inside. 

As you head back, coke cans in tow, you are intersected by a taller man. You knew him, Sion from Nu Xi Tau frat, or something like that. Your relationship, although you wouldn't even call it that, was barely existing, having played one game of beerpong at a party and just cordially greeted each other ever since.

"How have you been? I haven't seen you around in calculus?" He asks, smiling as friendly as ever, clearly not noticing your freezing hands from the contact with the aluminum.

"Oh yeah, I have been cramming for exams and I just... forgot about attendance," you joke, gesturing with your hands.

"Well if you need anything just send me a text. I can lend you my notes if you want to"

"That would be awesome, just let me..." you say, balancing the cans on one hand as you pull your phone out of your pocket, opening your contacts for him to input his number.

A wave of water falls upon you. Well mostly on Sion, but you still got your fair share.

Weird, since it was the sunniest day of the year, and rain didn't fall like a bucket being emptied on you. And there you see it. Your very own Poseidon, since it seemed like he could control water now, jogging towards you.

"Sorry about that" Jiho says, with the same smile reserved for trying to buy time, to get out of trouble, shaking his head to get the water out of his hair.. "Brian tried to get me wet but it seems like he missed" he adds, earning himself a 'that's a lie' from the older boy in the background, which he promptly ignores. 

You have no time to answer before he basically does it himself "Let me help you with that. It was nice seeing you too" he tells Sion, grabbing two of the cans of your hand, wasting no time to put his arm around you, pulling you with him to the security of his frat, where he knew no one would try to flirt with you.

"Saved by the bell, weren't you?" He comments, pulling you even closer, and you feel the water previously dripping off his clothes seep into your own, much to your disgust.

"You are making me wet, Chejo" you complain, trying to push him off.

"Oh I bet I could make you wetter" he murmurs, teasing tone in his voice, wrapping his arms around you, hugging you and shaking his head, maximizing the amount of droplets that fall onto you. After he's satisfied with the amount of water on your being, he resumes his path, his arm around your shoulder, dragging you along.  

It wasn't something new for him to be this touchy with you, but, for the first time, you realized how possessive it came off. Doing all of this in front of one of your university's most attractive guys, a single one at that, was an attitude you could only deem worthy of a male peacock. 

He drops you off at the checkout, once again with Kamden and Keeho, who seem thoroughly entertained with the blatant display of jealousy their friend had just put on, not wasting a minute. 

“Need a towel for that?” Kamden teases, cracking open the can with a mocking smile. 

“I can think of a few things they need and none of it is another piece of fabric…” Keeho comments, earning a loud laugh from Kamden and a slap to his arm from you. “Ouch! I didn't say anything that wasn't true.” 

“All of that for getting you drinks” you complain “Raise crows and they will peck your eyes out” 

You loved baking. Bake sales didn't have the same luck. Even less when the sellers were young men who had a bottomless appetite. Thank god you had been saved from being involved with the selling part, having done your little grain of sand a few days ago when you had baked a thousand cookies with the freshman, a number that had declined after these few days had passed, even if no sales had been made. Weird, huh?

Even if you had no plans of buying anything, already sick of the vanilla smell permeating everyone around you during the last few days, you dropped by, after all every one of your friends was tangled somehow in this.  

As you approach the table, you hear your name called by a girl, one you have seen around before, but have no idea who or why she was here, even less calling you over. 

“It's really nice to finally meet you!” she says, pulling you into a side hug, way too comfortable for someone you didn't know the name of. She was accompanied by Jiho, who received a questioning stare from you, only to respond by shrugging his shoulders, looking uncomfortable. Weird. 

“It's nice to meet you too…” you say, not even knowing her name, but she was acting as if you were the bestest of friends. You had always been a friendly person, but this was crossing over a line even with you. 

“I'm Nayeon, Jiho's project partner” She explains, shooting a complicit stare to Jiho, that looks like he wants the earth to swallow him whole. “He has talked so much about you, I wanted to meet the legend” 

She seems like a really nice girl, and you can't help but feel really bad about finding her so annoying. Also what was she going on about, and why were you implicated in it was a mystery to you

“Oh, I didn't know he had a new project” you say, weirded out about him not telling you about her or the project. Why was he keeping other girls a secret now? and why wasn't he telling you about the projects he had? He always showed you the things he was working on, why was it now that it was with her, the time he didn't? “It was nice seeing you two, but I have to get to my next class” you say, setting free from her grip. 

“Let me walk you there” Jiho shoots up. Oh so now he can talk. 

“There's no need, I'm taking Hana with me so you will need the extra hands” you say, waving to the girl who has been handling the sells since this morning, having shot you a text to come free her, and you complied like a good friend “And I wouldn't want to cut short your hangout, it was really nice meeting you, Nayeon” 

You greet them goodbye, escaping the hectic stand with your tired friend, who is complaining about the boys and the lack of help from her boyfriend, something you barely pay attention to, consumed by your thoughts on why he seemed so uncomfortable with Nayeon meeting you, as if almost ashamed. 

Jiho had been acting weird the last few days. You couldn't pinpoint exactly what about him was off, but everyone could tell. The confirmation had come in your roommate asking if he had finally confessed and if your rejection was the reason why he wasn't dropping by as often as he did before, something that had been bothering but were too afraid to confess. You had periods of time where you both were distanced, usually around exam season, but never had it been like this. If you spoke to him or texted him he would answer, but he never initiated, and it seemed like he was always busy when you proposed a plan to do. 

You couldn't have chosen a worse time for you to have fought, even if it couldn't be considered a fight. You were expected to attend every event they had been doing, and you hadn't cussed having the same friend group as much as now. 

You arrive with Minju, hours earlier than the starting time of the dance-a-thon. You decide to stick with her, hanging out with Siyun and Kyrell instead of going straight to Jiho, whose stare you can feel burning your side. 

You spend the evening with the other guys, helping set up the participants, trying to maintain your mind occupied from the boy that was currently ignoring you. That was the conclusion you had come to, since once Nayeon had arrived, he had wasted no time tagging along her side, even if he had been too occupied to come to greet you earlier that night. 

You should be having a great time, dancing along with your friends and laughing at the try-hards on the dance floor, not trying to make sense of why your best friend suddenly hates you.  After spending a few songs, you decide to go sit down. 

You settle down on the tables set on the sidelines, wasting no time in snapping a few photos of Kamden, who's now occupying the role of DJ. 

“Enjoying the night?” you could recognize that voice anywhere, and probably would have killed to hear it during the past weeks, but honestly, right now, it only soured your mood. 

“Something like that,” you answer, as he sits beside you. 

“We haven't seen each other in a while” you wanted to sucker punch him. The audacity of the man was unbelievable, after having basically ignored you for weeks he acted like nothing happened. 

“Yeah, just have been busy” lies. He had just found a replacement for you, another pretty girl that would have his attention for the year and you would be forgotten to dust, because at the end of the day he was your best friend, while to him, you just were another girl he was trying to get in his bed. 

“We have to fix that,” he says teasing, and you can feel the tears threatening to fall from your eyes, “Care to give me a dance?” he asks, extending his hand as an invitation

“Later” you say, rejecting him, and in your attempt to hide your tears you miss the way his face falls “i need to go to the bathroom” 

You left him sitting there, and you hope he feels an ounce of the abandonment you felt the last weeks. You move across the different tables, finally reaching the frat house and locking yourself to the first bathroom you can find. You don't know why you are crying, it has never hurt like this. Did it hurt because he never saw you as just a friend, always having his personal scheme, or did it hurt because he was moving on?

After a short cry session and trying to fix your face, you decide to be mature with it, grab the bulls by the horns, and go dance with him, just to get close enough to have an actual talk with him. 

You come back to the dance floor, Theo having replaced Kamden in the booth, the music now more lively, more people on the dance floor. You stand by the side, searching for the cause of your pain. 

And then you see him, dancing with Nayeon, laughing as he spins her around. It reminds you of you two last year, dancing at the same event, hell even the same place. Maybe it was a rite, maybe next year she would be in your place, realizing that he just never saw her as a friend, never actually liked her, seen her behind a quick fuck. Never wanted her for anything else than a notch on his belt. Or maybe she would have better luck, getting to be her girlfriend. 

You send a quick text to your roommate, inventing some poor excuse before leaving the party, deciding to take the long way home. 

You didn't like dancing that much anyway. You just did it to be with him.

He didn't know what was happening with you two. He had made it clear in different instances about how he felt about you, how you weren't just friends anymore, and how it has always been like that.

You never were just friends, but never had crossed the friendship line either, being stuck in the middle, in a limbo. Sure, you were the most beautiful girl in his eyes, but you were his best friend. He liked being with you not only for the visuals, but because he loved the banter, your playful side, your personality, you. He had resigned himself to the role of your best friend, much to his pain, but lately, it had become way more harder to pretend he didn't like, hell, even love you, and didn't want to be more than being friends with you. That stunt he pulled with Sion, whom he apologized to later that day, had been a wake up call. People could perceive you, you weren't a product of his imagination confined to his friend group. You were a pretty girl, a smart student and a good  friend, it was a matter of time for someone to want to shoot their shot with you. 

He was scared. Being honest, while he always made his appreciation of your beauty known to literally everyone around him, he was terrified of the prospect of ruining everything with you. On one hand, you could reciprocate his feelings, and you two could date and everything would be rainbows and sunshine. On the other hand, you could not like him, you probably didn't like him like that, and hate him for the rest of your life, since he would have crossed the very thin line that kept your friendship from blowing over. Yet, he had to think fast, since it was a matter of time for your relationship to still be peaceful, a matter of time for you to find someone else, someone that would occupy the spot he longed for. 

Amidst all of this inner dilemma, an angel fell from heaven. Nayeon. A girl completely oblivious to the situation. Someone who would give him the best of both worlds in his problem: an outside opinion and a girl perspective. Thankfully, she seemed like she loved the idea of playing cupid, already excited at the prospect of setting up a couple so expected by everyone (read: his fraternity). 

She probably was the person that was more honest with him. From her perspective, you both should take distance from each other, giving him space to help him realize if he really liked you or was it just an infatuation, but deep down, he already knew the answer. 

Following her advice seemed like the logical thing to do, but once he's looking around for you, to cash in that dance you owe him, only for him to be informed you left by Keeho of all people, not even wasting your time on letting him know you weren't feeling well in person, he can't help but feel that maybe everything was ruined. 

You like partying. You weren't the craziest of the party girls, but you liked to go out a few times a month. Dressing pretty, pregaming with the boys, dancing until your feet ached and after parties with cold pizza were things that formed part of your friend group weekly routine. You had been able to escape the club scene under the pretense of home sickness, but there was no way any of your friends would let you not attend one of their parties. So sadly, you got clad in your pretty dress and boots, and headed there. 

“Cheer up! you haven't gotten out in a while,” Minju says, and she's right, succumbing yourself to studying way easier than subjecting yourself to missing a boy. “Maybe Jiho will be here” she adds, trying to cheer you up.

God, you wanted to cry. You couldn't even remember the last time you had spoken with the boy, and yet everyone seemed hellbent on reminding you that you didn't know what had pulled him away, or who. 

You arrive at the party, and it's a question of seconds before finding your friend group. It's not like it's a hard thing, given that most of them are built like titans. You greet everyone, but suddenly you feel an arm around you. You were hating this night. 

“Hi Chejo” you greet him as if everything was fine, and while he would love to believe that, he wasn't dumb, he could tell by your tone that something was upsetting you.

“Hi pretty, we all missed you last weekend” Yeah, when they had gone clubbing. You had decided rewatching beetlejuice while eating ice cream was a way better plan. “ Some more than others” 

You laugh at his comment. “Tell Seungmo I missed him too” you joke about one of the younger members that had been adopted by your friend group, you had gotten along just fine, and had even hung out on campus sometimes. He was like a little brother to you. 

“Not him who I'm talking about” he answers, fake annoyance in his tone. 

You chat for a few minutes, catching each other up on what your lives were, making your stomach churn. Were all your future interactions going to be like this? with someone that you used to know? you can't think of an answer to that question before he leaves under the pretense of getting you a drink, almost as quickly as he had come. 

Five minutes pass, then twenty. You are sure it's been half an hour when you decide to go search for him. You find him with her, and some people you assume are her friends. As you approach, you hear it. ‘You are so funny Chejo’ Nayeon says mid laugh, hitting his shoulder, and the ‘Don't call me that, I don' t like it’ he doesn't waste a minute in answering. 

Since when did he not like that nickname? and most importantly, why was she calling him the nickname you gave him. You couldn't think of any person whom you had a relationship with that called him Chejo. And he didn't like it. And he never told you.

You turn around on your heels, darting out of the kitchen. You know why it affects you so much to hear he doesn't like the nickname. That he didn't tell you. Suddenly, every little interaction feels like a big ploy to get you to fall for him, and now that he got bored he moved on. And you are hurt, because that was once your best friend. And you liked him. 

You walk aimlessly, ending up in the backyard. You don't even know how you got there, but once you see Mackiah sitting there, smoking what you hope it's a cigarette, you make a beeline for him. 

“Looking rough” he comments as you sit beside him, and he's kind enough to offer a drag of his cigarette. You waste no time, snatching it out of his hand. 

“Dont even get me started” you say, exhaling the smoke while staring at the sky. It was a pretty night, almost beautiful enough to make you forget the tears about to fall. 

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks, taking the cigarette from your hand to take a drag himself. 

You shake your head, grabbing the cigarette back from him “Tell me about your frat experience” you ask, not wanting to even think about the boy plaguing your thoughts.  

You stay there, hearing him talk about how he decided to go to this uni, his relationship with the boys, the girl waiting for him back home. You smile as he tells you about her, about how she was the prettiest he had ever seen, that doesn't mean you weren't pretty, but you get what he means. You laugh at his nervousness of offending you, palming his back as a sign of understanding. 

“Wasn’t me beating your ass at the logs enough that you need to come flirt with my girl?” Jiho says, sitting beside you. Where had he come from you had no idea, and honestly, right now, you couldn't even care less, just thinking of a way to escape from his presence. “Sorry for the delay” he says, handing you a beer bottle. 

“Took you long enough,” you say, grabbing the peace offering, and with that, Mackiah decides to make a run for it “And I’m not your girl” 

“Common, you know what i mean” he says, a teasing smile on his face. a sight you usually found undeniably attractive now making your stomach churn. 

“No, Jiho. I don't know.” you say, setting the barely drank beer on the floor beside you “I don't know why I am ‘your girl’ while you still can go flirt with whoever you want”

“Its not like that” 

“Oh but it is”  you say, now even more annoyed by how he tried to shift the narrative. “First Sion, then Mackiah. All while you can go flirt with every girl on campus” 

“Oh common, it doesn't mean anything. You will always be my favorite one” He jokes, and after the fact is over, he wishes he could have taken you seriously, realizing that this was really an insecurity to you, something he should have taken into account, not mocked in front of you. 

“You are right, it doesn't mean anything” you say, getting up. You should have known this conversation was going to go nowhere. At the end of the day, you had been warned of guys like this. And how you wished that you were wrong. 

“Don't go. You know I didn't mean it like that” he says, following after you. How fast could you go? He felt like he was running a marathon.

“You never mean it like that, and maybe that's the problem” you say, trying so hard not to cry in front of him. 

“What does that even mean? Just calm down, we can talk about this like adults.”

“Like adults I'm telling you, I'm not going to ruin this to be another one of your girls.”

“That's not what I want with you, you are not understanding me” 

“Is Nayeon not enough?” you couldn't help the words as they left your mouth, and you regretted asking, not wanting to know the answer. You didn't want to know if now, now that he had gotten bored of you, Nayeon would get the first place. Would she get to do the bake sales, the designated extra chair in his dorm, the company while she studies? will she replace you, now forgotten in the frat, because once she is the official one, why would you still be around? 

“What? It's not like that with her," he says, desperate. He can feel you slipping through his fingers, and is afraid of what might happen if he lets go of you completely. 

“And it's not like that with her, and it's not like that with me” you say, now full on sobbing. And god how humiliating it was, to be crying in the backyard of a frat party, because you got your heart broken by a stupid frat boy. How cliché. “Because at the end of the day it wasn't like that, and I'm the stupid one to think you weren't exactly what they warned me about”

Jiho doesn't think anything in his life had hurt as much as that moment, and he had his fair share of injuries. Just last week he got hit by a ball dropping from the second story of the house and had to spend the afternoon in the ER. Or that time he broke his collarbone playing basketball when he was fourteen. Even that hurts less than hearing you say those words. 

He knew he was playing with fire, acting like nothing was happening between you too. He should have known his luck wouldn't run that far to leave you hanging around, waiting for him to come back with your drinks. He knew his luck was starting to stretch thin when he made that snarky comment to Mackiah, who now reflects upon it as just trying to make you feel better. His luck had started to tear up when the words ‘it’s not like that’ left his mouth. 

He didn't know why he acted like this with you, he had his chance, he had made it known from the beginning what he wanted from you. He didn't get it, he was able to see past that, to be around you just as a friend, great! but why couldn't he act normal around you?

Why couldn't he tolerate the idea of other men simply existing around you. He knew Sion probably didn't like you, or at least that's what he confirmed once Nayeon told him he had a boyfriend, Riku, who he loved very much. He knew Mackiah didn't even think about it, he barely registered you as a woman with how hung up he was over his girlfriend back home. So why did it matter so much that you gave them attention once in a while? 

He knew the answer. He missed you. He knew you were avoiding hanging out with the group because you didn't want to see him. There was no way you really were homesick and decided to stay alone in the sad dorm room you hated, instead of going to hangout with your friend group. He knew there was no way you would leave a dance a ton early, even if you didn't dance you loved to see the last man standing, finding their adrenaline/ red bull fuelled dancing entertaining, he stills remember last year's.

You had danced with him most of the night, saying you only liked doing it with people who made it worthy, and he swears that's the closest feeling to heaven on earth a man can have. He still can picture your pretty face, colored by the light's reflection, and the way he wanted to kiss you, when you put your arms around his neck, dramatically singing along to whatever song was playing. He really should have kissed you, back then, and told you about how he felt. And maybe now he wouldn't have to see you go, this time I'm not sure there will be a next time, a next chance to see you again, at least not like this, as if you still loved him.

He had kept you in the dark so long of his true feelings, hell, he himself had been in the dark about them for the longest time, or maybe just the time that it takes to realize that it's no longer an infatuation, that it has become something more but he had sealed his fate. Had he talked about it, maybe you would have given him a chance. Or maybe you would have forgiven him. But he was stubborn. 

And now he ruined everything.

You hoped he had followed after you, to explain what he meant when he said it wasn't like that, to fix everything. To tell you that it had meant something and that you weren't just another one of his girls. But of course, he didn't. And you had never felt stupider. 

You walked all the way to the dorms, not even bothering to tell your friends you left, not wanting to receive an interrogation on what happened, even if by now they probably knew, now finding the show you put on lowkey embarrassing, even more knowing it probably spread like wildfire. 

You barely bother getting out of your outfit, not even trying to take off your makeup, the heartache too big for you to feel like a functioning human being. 

You liked Jiho. And it had taken you to realize he was a dick for you to accept the feelings. You didn't know what hurt most, if the version you loved of him not existing anymore or the act of losing your best friend. There was no way you were going back after this. Your relationship would never be the same. And that only makes you sob harder, burying your face in the pillow, now stained with mascara and leftover glitter. 

Minju: I heard what happened, I'm coming home.

You heard the notification enter, and you hoped it was him, that he was going to magically fix this. But you had to stop believing in fairy tales, that your prince charming wouldn't come. This was reality, where he already had a new girl in mind, and you were left in the past. This was reality, where maybe, you were waiting for the wrong thing, and maybe your prince charming was your friend lending you a shoulder to cry on, letting you curse and cry to the boy. It was the same friend who took off your makeup, and let you sleep on her bed with her. No one died from a broken heart, and Minju would make sure you weren't the first one.

You had been better, but you also had been worse. It had been some days from the party, and you were now ready to face the sun, the life outside your fugly dorm room. You had cried your heart out, cussed his entire bloodline, and had gotten the respective messages from your friend group calling him a dickhead. Which you agreed with, but didn't want them to get involved in something that wasn't their business. 

You had decided to not attend the rest of the fraternity events, at least for the time being. While your friends complained, they understood where you were coming from, the wound was too new for it to not be painful. So today, while all of your friends got together for the faux drive in cinema the frat set up, you were staying in, a new book to start reading, and a baked pastry, courtesy of Brian, who felt bad enough of being the cause of your pain, even if you explained to him that you would have met the real culprit one way or another, he still felt slightly guilty about it. 

Just as you finish the first chapter, the phone rings. It's Kamden, and you find it odd for him to be calling, not only you weren't that close, you were sure by now they probably should have started the movie. 

“Hi Kamden, did something happen?” it was awkward to say the least. While you knew the boy and was a part of  your friend group, you weren't close enough for a call from him to be anything other than an emergency.

“Our hdmi cable stopped working, Minju says you two have one connected to the tv, is there a chance we can borrow it from the night?” he asks, hurriedly. So fast that you had trouble even understanding him, but alas, you got the message. 

“Yeah, do you want me to drive there?” Even if you were purposely not attending, you missed the guys, not having some of them since the divorce (as they had started to call it) happened. 

“No need, you can just give it to Jiho, he's still at his dorm” Oh. You were not ready to face him, but hearing his worried tone made you feel bad. Kamden had been in charge of this thing for the last months, and was probably about to rip his hair out. You could be a big girl and face your fears, but he owed you a big one for this. 

“Y/n? Are you still there?”

“Yeah yeah, I can give it to him."

Kamden was going to kill him. He had gotten hung up with Nayeon working on the sample and now was running late for movie night. He was supposed to be there like twenty minutes ago, and just now he was finally going to head there. He was about to be murdered.

While he finishes tying his shoes, his mind can't help but drift to you. To that night in specific. And the things you said. Were you wrong about the things you said? He liked to think he wasn't like that, he wasn't the poster child for an emotionally stunted frat boy, but was that the truth? at the end of the day what had he done if not lead you on. He hoped you were there tonight. You hadn't been in the last few hangouts, and everyone acted like it was the most common thing in the world. He felt like he was going crazy, having to get updates of you from the guys, who only answered a meek ‘better’ or ‘fine’, at least they answered. Minju had told him it was none of his business and to ask you himself if he wanted to know that bad. He didn't. Because you were right. At the end of the day, he was a coward. 

He hears a knock on the door, maybe Nayeon forgot her books again, he was sure he would have lost her head by now if it wasn't attached to her neck.

“You didn't leave anything here, Nayeon. You should check the library…” he says as he opens the door, stopping mid sentence, shocked. 

You.

 Standing there. 

He had to blink twice to see if it wasn't a hallucination. He wasn't sure you were real up until now.

“Y/n…” he says your name as if afraid that once he finishes it you will disappear. 

“Hi Jiho.” you say, and he winces internally. He wasn't Jiho, not to you at least. “Didn't Kamden tell you i was dropping by?” you ask. 

“No, no he didn't. More like I didn't check. I'm about to head there.” he over explains signaling to his abandoned phone on the bed, nervousness exuding from every pore in his being “Why are you here? Do you need a ride?” he asks, and he hopes you don't think he doesn't want you here.

“No. I'm not going.” you say, curtly, and you can see how disappointed he is about that piece of information. “I just came to give you a cable, it seems like the one they had burnt out.” you add, handing him the cable, and attempting a fast escape turning on your heels to go back to the comfort of your dorm. 

“Are you sure? we are watching Ghostbusters…” he tries to convince you, even if he knows it's a futile attempt. You disregard his try, waving him goodbye while you say next time, even if he's not sure there will be one. He watches you disappear down the hall. Yeah, he fucked up everything .

The whole drive there, Jiho can't get you out of his mind. The way you talked to him, your face, your expression to be more specific. The way you looked at him, he had seen it before. Reserved to people who annoyed you, like the guy who mansplained the class you passed with flying colors that he was retaking. It wasn't a look he had gotten ever from you. And it scared him. 

He couldn't get it out of his mind. Not when he arrived at the vacant lot they had occupied for the event, not when he was occupied with ticketing. Not when the movie had started, and he settled beside Brian and Hana, who was cuddled up against her boyfriend once the movie had started and everyone could finally breathe again. 

He finds himself admiring the couple as they are fixated on the movie. He feels a pang of jealousy, had you come, had everything been fine, that could be you beside him. Had he not been the stupidest man alive he could be dating you today, or at least still be your friend. 

“You have to get your act together man.” he hears the older male say beside him, once the guy registers the trance his friend is in. 

“Huh?” 

“With y/n. She likes you. You like her. It's that simple.” The male says, and Jiho can't help but wonder if his friend is lowkey stupid. It never was that simple. 

“I wish it was. I screwed everything up” 

“That you did. That doesn't mean it's beyond salvation.” Brian says, accommodating himself better without bothering Hana too much before adding “Talk with her. If you truly feel what you told us, telling her shouldn't be that hard. Or at least won't be as hard as losing her.” 

He hums, he was afraid his friend was right. You two had a pending chat. But now, did he still have a chance on making everything right, on having you forgive him?

Have you always been this hard to catch? Jiho felt like you had stopped existing, transcending into the dream plane, a concept that everyone knew but no one could see. How had you gone from seeing you in every corner of his life to always just missing you. Why were the answers to your location ‘oh she was just here’, she just left or she's coming later. Were you playing a joke on him?

He had tried to find you casually, not to ambush you in your own dorm. He didn't think you would answer his texts if he asked for a chance to speak, deciding that finding you casually was a better way to go. Or maybe he was just afraid that you would just tell him not to contact you anymore, and pushing the rejection until he saw you in person seemed like the easier thing to do. 

He tried to give you space. For the last time he asked about you, it seemed like you really were doing better, and he hoped talking with him wouldn't ruin that for you. At the end of the day, he was scared too. He preferred for you to be mad at him for the idea of living without you. He could lose you now or lose you later, the later part being more permanent. Now, he could try to ignore it, and you would be back to the group, the only difference would be the distance within you. Or you could talk now, fight, and possibly never make up. He didn't know what was worse. He didn't think there was an universe where you would forgive him. 

His inner monologue was interrupted when the elevator doors opened. He was heading to his dorm after hanging out with Kyrell and Seungmo. They had been no great help when talking about his dilemma, but at least they had let him pour his heart out, even if the younger one didn't refrain from rolling his eyes once at the sheer love sickness. 

As the doors slid open he couldn't believe his luck. You are standing there, looking as pretty as ever. He can't decide if this will be a good or a bad thing in the long run, but for now he feels like the luckiest guy alive, to be graced with your presence. You look like an angel fell from heaven as you enter, standing awkwardly beside him. 

“Hey” you greet him, after all, you still had a few minutes to ride in the slowest elevator known to mankind, and you'd try to make it as pleasant as possible.

“Hi” he says back, and you can feel his eyes bore into the side of your face. He was staring intently, as if trying to check if you were real, and standing beside him.

“Were you with Kyrell?" you asked, already knowing the answer. No one would willingly hang out in this building unless they had a reason, or someone, to be here. 

“Yeah, I hung out with him and Seungmo” he says. “You?” 

“I was studying with a friend from algorithms,” you say. Right, Brian had told him you and Hana were entering the final line for most of your projects. He tried so hard to ask who was the lucky guy, but he wasn't on grounds to make jealousy statements. 

Just as he's about to say something, the words die in his mouth. The elevator shakes, deciding to stop in between the two floors. You should have known better than to take the elevator. Everyone knew it got stuck like once a week, why did you think it wouldn't happen to you at some point. Dammit, survivor bias. 

You nervously pressed the buttons, seeing if you could get a reaction from the damned appliance. With no avail, the creature didn't budge. “Shit” you say, banging your head against the wall. He stares at you, shocked, as you regain compassion, pressing the SOS button as you slid down the wall, sitting on the floor. 

“There’s no signal” you groan, trying to call whoever it was you were with earlier, much to his annoyance. It's not like he was any different, phoning Kyrell. 

“They will get us out of here” he tries to calm your nerves (and his), sitting on the opposite side from you, resting his legs right beside yours. 

You stare at him, annoyed stared on your face. And he feels bad for finding it as beautiful as you always were to him, even when you were pissed at him. Maybe the lack of your presence in his life only made simple acts like breathing around you even harder.

“I was hoping to run into you” he says, trying to put a nonchalant facade to hide the hurt on his voice. “We have a conversation pending” 

“There's nothing we have to talk about, Jiho” you spit out. You should have brought your earphones, a book, hell, even your calculus homework, anything to keep you away from giving in to the man. 

“Yeah, we do. Because I couldn't explain myself the other day, and I hurt you. I'm sorry about that.” he says, honestly. “And maybe, I was hoping you would just hear me out. Because even if I am exactly like that, I'm selfish. and I couldn't even begin to fathom the idea of losing you. So please, hear me out. You don't have to stay after, but just let me try.”

You listen to his ramble, not like you had any other option, and you find yourself weighing the options. You could say no. Probably have him ramble anyway, since there's nothing else to do in this fuckass elevator, and get out and go with your life. Only that you probably wouldn't, you would run into him all the time, and the only fixture to that would be moving dorms and getting a new friend group, a completely unreasonable solution. The other option was to hear him out, and maybe there was a small chance of salvaging whatever piece of your friendship stayed there. How you hated being a rational person. 

“Go on” you say, sitting straighter under his expecting stare, after all, you always had a hard time saying no to him anyway.

“When I say I didn't mean it like that, I didn't mean that about you. I didn't mean the joke about Mackiah like that. It was in bad taste, but I trust the dude. It wasn't about jealousy, it was supposed to be a joke." He explains “I'm sorry if I made you feel like you couldn't have male friends.” 

“Is that all?” you ask, not really satisfied with his apology. At the end of the day, it seemed like nothing had changed. He didn't regret hurting you and leading you on, he just regretted not having you around anymore. 

“No. It was like that. I do like you, and hell, I have liked you since the first day. I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it was more than just a dumb crush, I'm sorry it took me almost losing you to realize that.” he corrects himself. There was no way he had you in front of him and he would not try to make it up to you, hell, he would have done everything you asked for the possibility of forgiveness. 

“What about Nayeon?” you ask, still not sure what the role of the girl in his life was "Aren't you two seeing each other?" 

“What? no. We just hit it off as friends, she's seeing some guy from arts.” 

“I thought you liked her. And were replacing me with her” you confess. Maybe you shouldn't have been this vulnerable, maybe you should have played hard to get., but you would be lying if you said you didn't want to fix this for once and for all, already tired of running in circles. 

“No way. You can ask her how many times I have gone on weird tangents about you.” he confesses. “Even if she liked me, I was way more worried about you hating me more” he adds, earning himself the smallest giggle out of you, and it feels like his heart starts beating again.   

“Okay…” you trail off, taking in the information.

“So…”

“So what”

“Do you forgive me?” he asks “I can get on my knees and beg.” He threatens, inching closer as he rests on the heels of his feet, testing the territory.      

“Please don't” 

“Then forgive me, because we don't know how long we are gonna be and I plan on making good use of my time”

“How?” you tease.

“Well, begging since it seems like someone can really hold a grudge” he jokes, earning himself a kick on the thigh. “I’m really sorry” he adds, his hand resting on your leg that had hit him, thumb drawing the smallest circles. 

“It's okay. I forgive you, I guess” you shrug, nonchalant. God, how you hated the effect he had on you. 

“You forgive me as a friend…” he tests the waters. Even if he would have preferred to finally get to call you his, he could understand why that might be way too fast for both of you.

“Jiho” you say sternly. 

“I would say you could always leave, but…” he gestures to the elevator door, still no sign of rescue. 

“Ha ha, you are so funny.”

“The funniest” he says sitting, this time beside you. “I missed you so much” and he means it. There was nothing he hated more than not being able to hear you, to see your face, if it was up to him, there wouldn't be a day he wouldn't be by your side, living inside your skin if he could.

“I missed you too” you say, and you don't miss the foolish smile that adorns his face this time around.

After being rescued from the elevator, things had gone back to normal. Kind of. You still had that lingering feeling of something being pending in your relationship that you didn't have the energy to acknowledge, and Jiho seemed to agree with you for the most part. Or at least was conscious enough of the delicate state of your relationship to bring up his doubts about it right now. That didn't deter him from going back to his old ways, albeit toned down, he still kept saving the place beside him in your friends hangouts, and dropping by in between breaks of classes to hangout with you, or just drop various treats. Or he still sent you music and movies he thought you would like. Things that made you doubt about the friendship you had reinstalled, only that this time, he seemed to be holding space. You had told him you wanted to stay friends, and he seemed to agree with you. He had always acted like this, and you didn't find it bothering before, so why now it seemed to irk you so bad? Was that annoyance at the way he acted, or the way he made you feel? 

Since they had finished the month of charity events, they had decided to throw a small get together, a small bonfire in the backyard, only for frat members and adjacent. Obviously, you and Minjun were the first on the list, getting once again greeted by the trio to confirm your attendance. You found the joy on the younger's faces endearing, not missing the smile of the older as he watched you from the corner of your bed, not daring to inch closer. 

The night had come faster than you expected, finding you and Minju piled in a car with the dorm inhabitants to head there. The back of the car filled with ice and diverse drinks, since it seemed like the Greeks were ready to let themselves loose after a few very stressful weeks. 

You arrive at the house, helping unload the car. The backyard was organized differently, some new fairy lights hanging from the diverse trees, courtesy of Hana. They had made a temporary bonfire in the middle, mismatched sofas and logs to sit around. They weren't a big fraternity, so it was way more private than one would think. 

The night goes on, drinking and talking about life, reminiscing about different stories from the past years, Keeho and Kamden talking about their own initiation stories, way before any of you had gotten into college, and not wasting a minute to embarrass the younger ones, reminiscing every shameful event of theirs. You find yourself tipsy, sitting beside Jiho. Your head lays across his chest as he plays with a loose strand of hair, intently listening to whatever they were talking about. You could have stayed like this forever. 

One by one, your friends find themselves interested in other things, abandoning the bonfire for other places and leaving you and Jiho alone, the crackling sound of the fire being the only company. 

“Alone for the night, huh?” he jokes, turning to look at you. You looked as pretty as ever, the dim light of the bonfire marking your features. 

You hum in agreement, not wanting to disrupt the peaceful atmosphere. Even if you probably would never admit it, you had wanted this for way longer than any of your friends imagined. 

“I missed you so much” he blurts out “I know we said to take things slow but seriously. I missed you so much. I thought I was going insane without you. Kind of thought I hallucinated you for some time” 

You laugh at his dramatics, already accustomed to how whiny he could get. “It wasn't even that long.” 

“Say that for yourself. It was like you disappeared from earth and I was the only one who remembered you” he explains, making you let out a snort at the sheer ridiculousness “No really, I asked Minju about you and she asked who you were” 

You laugh at the silliness, knowing damn well your roommate could keep a grudge that well, having been her victim more than once. “Okay okay, I missed you too” 

“For realsies?” he asks, teasing, pulling you impossible closer. 

“For realsies.” you say, trying to keep the straightest face possible at the tomfoolery of the guy in front of you “So don't give me another reason to push you away.” 

“Wouldn't even dream of it babe,” he says, his hand resting on the side of your waist “Just run me over with your car next time”

“Don't give me ideas Jiho” you fake threaten, and you don't miss the sleazy smile he has. or the way his eyes dart ever so slightly towards your lips. You decide to be generous, for probably the first time in your situationship, and the last. You press the quickest, tiniest kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

His breath stops. And you swear you can feel his soul leave his body before he gets back to earth, a teasing grin on his face. 

“You are evil” he says, pulling you impossible closer, your legs now resting on top of his lap, leaving his hands to be splayed across your legs. 

“How am I evil? I just kissed you” you say, your hand going to play with the longer strands on the back of his neck. 

“That was merely a kiss. Barely a peck even” He complains, his thumb rubbing patterns on the inside of your thigh, teasing as his voice. “I think I deserve a better one” 

“Aren't you the one apologizing? why should I kiss you” you joke, and you don't miss the way his eyebrows furrow. 

“Okay bet” he says, pulling you closer by your thighs, his face inches away from yours “You better not regret this then” 

“I promise I won't” you say, forcing yourself to keep the eyecontact, there was no way he was getting the upper hand in this one. 

“Good girl” He says before pressing his lips to yours, this time for real. He sighs into the kiss, and you swear you could melt. His hands were ever so careful as they explored the nakedness of your thigh, trailing up to your waist, pulling you even closer, as if trying to become one. You don't miss the cheer from your friends from the gallery, clearly ecstatic about finally getting the couple everyone wished for together. 

“Was that good enough” he says once you part, still not loosening his iron grip on your being.

“You should try to convince me more Jiho, just to be sure” you breathe out, still dazed. 

“Don't call me that” he says, pressing a quick kiss, much to your distaste. After having you waiting around for so long one would think he would be interested in some more action. “I'm Chejo”

“You don't like that” you mutter.

“Who told you that?” he asks, confused. 

“I heard you at the party. You told Nayeon you didn't like it”

“Well yeah. I don't like it when she calls me that. You are the only one who can” he says, pressing a slightly longer kiss, still not enough to satisfy your newly discovered need. “Now, ask for it, nicely” he teases. 

“You should try to convince me, Chejo” and this time, you don't miss his dumb smile, or the way he still has it once he kisses you, his hands still exploring your naked skin, as if he needed you like oxygen to live.

Yearbook photos were taken at the end of the year, when the president's graduation was close, as a way to commemorate him the coming year. This situation included every frat member, living in the house or not, and the sweetheart, who this year was Brian's girlfriend. After some deliberation, they had decided to give her a sweetheart court, since the girls of their life had been a great help to the fraternity this year. That list of girls included you, somehow tangled into this whole ordeal. 

You find yourself standing in the front yard, cladded on a fancy black dress, a strange attire for a random Wednesday afternoon, but not mismatching with all the tuxedo cladded guys. You were fixing Jiho's tie, since it seemed like no one knew how to tie one beside you. 

“I can't believe you really dyed your hair blonde”

“Don't act like you don't like it”

You liked it. At the beginning you didn't, when he had his hair an ugly bleach blonde, the kind you can only find in middle aged women at the trailer park. But now that he had let you tone it and actually give it a chance to look good, he looked hot. Like really hot. And you bet your ass you would never admit it to him, his ego didn't need another reason to get bigger.

“No comment" you say, fixating on making the tie look symmetrical. 

"You know I'm right" he says, his hands pulling you closer by the waist, so close your lips barely brushed.

"Now tell me. Do I look better than your ex?" he jokes, so close that you can see every detail on his face, an he wastes no time doing exactly the same.

"Jiho..." you groan, his relentless teasing getting to you.

"That's not my name, pretty"

You whine, hiding your face on his neck. 

“You look really handsome, Chejo” you say, trying your best to disguise your flustered state, his smile doing anything to placate those feelings.

“There we go” he says, pulling you impossibly closer, “You look as beautiful as always, pretty,” he says, adoration in his voice. 

“Hey lovebirds! it's your turn next” you hear Hana scream, calling you over to where the photographer is set. 

around you, people stream past in costumes and wigs and carefully crafted props. someone dressed like a magical girl nearly takes your eye out with a glitter-covered staff. somewhere to your left, a loudspeaker announces the beginning of an important ‘sweetheart showdown event’ again, whatever that meant. somewhere to your right, a group of people is arguing whether you can discuss spoilers of an old anime series considering it’s been decades since its release.

slowly, you look up at him.

satoru stares back through his thick-framed glasses, silver hair more unruly than usual, university hoodie half-zipped over a graphic tee that says i paused my game to be here. he has the expression he always gets right before saying something so profoundly stupid that you have to question why you’ve stayed his friend for so long. the reason hits you begrudgingly; you’ve been locked into the title of “satoru’s childhood best friend” since you were five and your parents have no intention of letting it end.

you narrow your eyes. “what did you do?”

he winces immediately. “see, that tone is exactly what i was trying to avoid. if you open with that, it makes me feel like you’re not giving me any room to explain myself.”

“satoru, when have you ever needed room to explain yourself? you usually just keep talking until people get tired and let you continue to yap.”

“that’s weird, it’s almost like you’re suggesting people don’t like talking to me.”

you snort, finding nothing humourous about his statement. “don’t deflect, answer the question.”

he glances over your shoulder toward something behind you, and then back at your face.

“all right,” he says, exhaling through his nose. “so, in my defense, i didn’t think it would sound that serious when they said it over the speakers. it was just meant to be a joke.”

your stomach drops a little and despite the urge to look for yourself what has him so frightened, you do not turn around yet. instead, you look at him more suspiciously. “when who said what over the speakers?”

he gives you a smile so guilty it makes you want to hit him in the stomach.

“well,” he says carefully, “they may have just announced that the sweetheart showdown participants should report to the main stage.”

you blink. “the what?”

“the sweetheart showdown.”

“you can’t just repeat it like i’d suddenly know what that is. those words mean nothing to me.”

“it’s a couples event.”

the convention noise seems to recede for one long, terrible second as you stare at him. he, useless as ever, only stares back. you look around. shoko and utahime hadn’t tagged alone so what couple is he referring to?

then you say, very evenly, “tell me you didn’t.”

“technically, i haven’t told you anything yet.”

“satoru.”

“okay, yes, i entered us, but before you overreact—”

“overreact?” you repeat in disbelief.

“yes,” he says, holding up a hand. “because i can already feel you gearing up to become evil, and i really need you to hear the full story before you decide to kill me in a building full of witnesses. for one, i’m pretty sure i saw a conan cosplay so the chances of you getting away are very slim. and for your mother’s sake, i don’t want her to freak out when you get put behind bars.”

you let out a long, slow sigh at his rambling. “explain yourself, satoru, and maybe you won’t end up on the end of that magical girl’s sword.” 

“is that sayaka?”

“yeah.”

he shifts his weight, messenger bag sliding against his side. if you didn’t know him as well as you did, you might miss the nerves. but you do know him, you’ve known him since you were small enough to fistfight over crayons and dramatic enough to stop speaking to each other for two days because he told your class you cried during that one dinosaur pixar film. you’ve known him since he was small enough to climb up the side of your house and through your window, offering you his shiny pokemon cards with large watery eyes, already having cried his little eyes out when you gave him the silent treatment at school.

you know the signs. the slight tension in his shoulders, the way he keeps pushing his glasses up his nose even though they aren’t slipping. the twitch at the corner of his mouth that means he’s trying to construct a joke that will be his lifeline out of this blunder (he hopes).

unfortunately for him, you also know exactly how much trouble that means he’s in.

“why,” you ask, “would you enter us in a couples event?”

“because,” he says, like the answer should be obvious, “the grand prize is a convention-exclusive limited edition figure, and i need you to be a reasonable person about this. look, it really isn’t all that bad!”

“oh, really? please, tell me just how not-bad it is that you signed us up to a dating show.”

“well, it depends on how attached you are to your personal freedom.”

you stare, unimpressed. “satoru.”

“and your dignity.”

“you are not selling anything to me right now.”

“and, like, your legal last name.”

“excuse me?”

he places his hands out as if they alone are enough to hold you back if you so choose to throw yourself at him. “i also told them we’ve been dating for five years and are engaged!”

“five years?” you do the maths. “did you tell them we were high school sweethearts?”

satoru shrugs as best as he can without dropping his hands. “i’m sure you can see where i got the inspiration. sweetheart showdown, highschool sweethearts.”

you stare at him for another second, horror and disbelief evident like you’re waiting for his face to give and to open into a burst of laughter. hell, you wouldn’t even mind if he laughed and pointed right in your face if it meant he could end the moment with ‘oh my god, i’m just joking! you should have seen the look on your face!’. but then you look over your shoulder toward the nearby stage, where a large screen flashes promotional art for the event and your hopes and dreams die at your feet. because right beside the screen in a glass display case, sits the prize.

it takes you less than three seconds to understand exactly why this is happening.

“you signed us up to fake date in public over a hatsune miku figurine.”

he puts a hand to his chest. “first of all, don’t reduce her like that. second of all, yes, but in my defense, this is a limited, collectors edition. if nothing else, think about how much we could earn if we sold it. not that i would, but imagine.”

you point toward the display. “i swear i’ve seen a million of these in that one anime store we go to.”

“those are all bootleg. just goes to show how important it is.”

“important?” you snort, eying how little clothing the figurine is wearing. “or how appealing it is to the male gaze?”

“it’s summer themed,” he corrects hastily. then, at your expression, “and when you say it like that, you make me sound shallow. you’re one to talk, you have bikini figurines in your room too.”

“you are shallow.”

“you know, i contain depths you’ve never even tried to understand.”

“i’ve known you since kindergarten. i know every depth you have, and most of them are frankly very embarrassing.”

that makes him grin, quick and helpless, because it’s true and you both know it. you were there for every one of his humiliating phases. the year he wore fingerless gloves because he thought they made him look cool. the month he got obsessed with card games and kept trying to teach you the rules during lunch. the awful era where he insisted he had powers similar to an anime character he looked up to and kept saying really embarrassing power moves out in public. that one still makes you wince when you remember that you had to be the one to stand next to him and the only one conscious of the stares.

he’s seen you at your worst too, which is probably why he looks so annoyingly calm even now, albeit a little defensive.

“exactly,” he says. “that’s why this works. nobody on this planet knows me better than you do. you know my favorite characters, my most humiliating middle school phase, the name of the first game that ever made me cry—”

“nier automata.”

“see? and i know yours. i know what snacks to buy when you’re in a bad mood, i know you still rewatch the same three comfort movies every exam season, and i know you pretend to hate fantasy rpgs even though you put forty-two hours into one over winter break.”

you narrow your eyes, still slightly huffy despite how satoru has always managed to wear you down. “it wasn’t even that much, like twenty-four hours at most.”

his grin sharpens and he lowers his hands, knowing he’s got you. “but no defense for the fact that you were elden-ring pilled? looks like that’s a win for me.”

“there is nothing to win.”

“there is,” he says, tipping his chin toward the stage again. “there is a figure with removable accessories and crazy good paintwork waiting for me to claim her, and all i need is for you to stand there and look like you can tolerate me romantically for twenty minutes. please. that’s all i ask.”

you’re probably going to say yes. still, you hold onto your fraying dignity for as long as you can because if there’s anything that you are, it’s stubborn. “you can’t say that like it’s an easy ask.”

“for you, it should be.” he tilts his head. “you already tolerate me.”

“oh, so you know?” you hate that, out of everything he’s said, that is the line that almost gets a laugh out of you. you school your features immediately after. “it’s not willingly, trust me.”

“no, but you’ve been pretty consistent with it.”

you make a show of consideration, finger tapping on your bottom lip before you straighten, watching as he brightens along with you. 

“yeah, no.”

his face falls at once. it’s dramatic, of course, because he’s him, but you don’t miss the flicker of something potentially genuine beneath the pouting.

“oh come on,” he whines. “don’t say no that fast. at least pretend to think about it, so i don’t feel like i’ve built our entire friendship on a lie that you actually care about my interests.”

“our entire friendship was built on our mothers’ friendship. and the fact that you ripped my princess wig off my head that one time when we were like, two. all because you wanted to be the princess.”

he shrugs like he doesn’t find that particularly worth talking about. “i was always the prettier one growing up.”

“right, like that’s going to make me say yes to your stupid gameshow.”

he exhales, glancing toward the stage again as another announcement crackles overhead.

“all participants for the first round of the sweetheart showdown, please report to the main stage in three minutes!”

he shuts his eyes. “okay, that’s more urgency than i wanted.”

you stare at him. “what even was the process of all this? i doubt you suddenly went up and signed us both up.”

he opens one eye. “well, remember when you needed to go to the bathroom and left me alone?”

you groan, reminding yourself to never leave him to his own devices again.

“you’re focusing on the wrong thing,” he’s quick to say. “the important point is that we qualified. very impressively, by the way. they said we have good chemistry.”

your best friend doesn’t say much else after that, choosing to instead stare at you pleadingly. 

that’s another irritating thing about satoru. for all his noise, for all his ridiculousness, and for all the random anime quotes he says on the regular, he knows exactly when to stop pushing and simply let you think. people who don’t know him well never notice that part, nor do they often reach it considering his walls. they only assume he’s all restless energy, all ego and all talk. but they don’t know how quiet and observant he can get, pretty blue eyes peeking past his glasses to hold you in his gaze, waiting for that crack.

it takes a little longer than he had calculated, but you eventually sigh. “what do i even get out of this?”

he brightens instantly, clearly having been waiting for that opening. “i’ll shout you crepes and one merch item under seventy dollars. and i’ll carry your bags for the rest of the day.”

“cheapskate.”

“be serious, we’re at a convention.”

you hum. “under eighty.”

“fine,” he concedes. “under eighty. but if you pick something massive and fragile and i have to be the one to carry it, then you can’t say shit about me complaining.”

with a long-suffering sigh, you adjust your tote bag on your shoulder. “if this becomes the most humiliating experience of my life, you owe me that eight dollars anyway.”

the relief that flashes across his face is almost enough to make you regret agreeing, because it softens him in a way you are not prepared to deal with in a convention this overstimulating. still, you can’t completely suppress your small smile. 

then, just as quickly, he’s grinning again.

“you’re my hero,” he says, catching your wrist once more and tugging you toward the stage. “you’re also, for the next twenty minutes, allegedly very in love with me, so maybe try to look less like you’re being led to an execution.”

you let him pull you along for exactly two steps before digging your heels in. “if you say one embarrassing thing up there, i’m telling everyone about the naruto running incident from year seven.”

he narrows his eyes. “that was one sports carnival, and i was committed to the bit. everyone was doing that because of area whatever number it was.”

“but you were the only one that tripped over your own shoelaces in front of the entire grade.”

“because the field was uneven.”

“please, like the real reason isn’t because you were twelve and embarrassing and running with your arms behind you like it helps with the speed.”

satoru huffs, rolling your eyes. “and here i was thinking fake dating would bring us closer.”

you smile sweetly. “if anything, it’s reminding me why this should never be real.”

something flickers across his face at that. it’s probably the shadow of the enormous fursuit you just walked past, something so incredible you pull your eyes away from satoru to watch as they disappear into the crowd. 

“did you see that?”

he recovers easily enough, grin returning as he tugs you a little closer.

“sure,” he says lightly. “keep telling yourself that.”

“what? i was talking about the furry.”

before you can decide what exactly he means by that, he’s already guiding you up the steps toward the stage, bright lights spilling across the floor and the crowd noise swelling around you, and suddenly the two of you are standing side by side in front of a microphone while the host beams at you. 

“welcome, welcome,” the host says, sparkling blazer catching the stage lights. “our final pair has arrived which means we can go ahead and begin!”

satoru immediately lifts your joined hands in the air. you try to yank it back but he squeezes, just once, quick and sly as he leans down slightly without looking away from the crowd. 

“commit to the bit,” he murmurs. 

you grind out around an awkward smile, “this better not be for nothing.” 

“hatsune miku is on the line. just do it for her. we can share, you can have her on every other weekend.”

“co-parenting or divorced?” 

“sure.”

the host interrupts your hush conversation by stepping forward, hands gesturing to speak into the mic. “introduce yourself to the audience!” 

“gojo satoru,” he says, and then he places one hand lightly at the small of your back, casual enough that it could almost pass unnoticed if you weren’t suddenly aware of his every touch. “and this is y/n.”

the other finalists are lined up to the side, multiple couples in coordinated cosplay which makes you and satoru by far the least convincing visually. you’re in regular clothes and he’s in his stupid hoodie. there is no universe in which you should be the couple people root for yet you receive a steady polite applause anyway. 

the host explains the rules. first, fandom trivia. then the sweetheart sync challenge where couple compatibility is tested. then, if necessary, a final lightning round between the top two pairs.

satoru leans slightly toward you. “see. easy. this is basically just an average tuesday for us, except now there’s a microphone.”

you eye the device warily. “sure, if our average tuesday also involves having our compatibility tested publicly in front of strangers.”

he hums. “you’re right, usually people just assume it.”

the host begins reading the first question. and, honestly, you’d like to say that from then on, the event is a stumbling hot mess of stuttering answers to questions you hadn’t prepared for because what it meant to be in a relationship with satoru shouldn’t feel natural nor easy. unfortunately, reality is often there to smack some sense into you because you and satoru are devastatingly good. 

it turns out that years of being his friend, if you can call your deeply hostile, weirdly affectionate arrangement since birth a friendship, has exposed you to so much niche information that your brain is a bank of all kinds of niche anime lore. 

“in detective conan, which detective’s name does shinichi combine to create the alias conan edogawa?”

satoru raises his hand quickly, that nerd. “arthur conan doyle and ranpo edogawa.”

“in puella magi madoka magica, what is the name of the witch born from sayaka miki’s despair?” the host asks.

“oktavia von seckendorff,” you answer instantly.

“correct again.”

while the host begins explaining the next question, you turn to satoru slightly. “wait no, because sayaka makes me so sad. she’s my favourite character in that show.”

he smiles softly down at your subtle pout. “i know.”

by question five, you’ve developed a lead you never expected, putting multiple couples in the dust. by question eight, you’re tied with one of the coordinated cosplay couples in first and by question ten, you’re the only one whose hand shoots up to guess the name of a soundtrack correctly. even satoru laughs, throwing you an amused glance amidst the applause.

“it only played for, like, two seconds. and you get on my ass for listening to the digimon theme song when you’ve clearly been studying that anime’s soundtrack.”

you huff. “you can’t call yourself a true fan unless you’ve searched the soundtrack on spotify.”

the host laughs. “i’m starting to see why you two made it this far.”

satoru grins and wraps an arm around your shoulder, drawing you in close until you bump against him. it’s not like you’ve never touched him like this before. he’s always been there to hold you in his arms when you’re down, whispering soft words of comfort against your hair, and he’s the first face you look for in a crowded party on your birthday, bringing him in to blow out your candles together because your birthdays share a night. sometimes you grab him and give him a squeeze when you finally defeat a boss in your darksouls esque game, and he isn’t afraid to hold you close and steal your warmth on cold, winter mornings, draping himself over your back, chin on your head and his cold, sneaky hands finding yours in your coat pocket, making you yelp.

despite all these memories filling your mind and reminding you of just how casual this should be, you still feel a tingle in your chest. 

the trivia round ends in a tie between you, satoru, and the cosplay couple dressed as rangkiku and gin. they look annoyingly photogenic and a little too prepared for something called the sweetheart showdown.

the host claps. “all right, now for the fun part. sweetheart sync!”

dread fills you as whiteboards and markers are handed out by staff appearing from the sides.

“oh no,” you say quietly.

beside you, satoru makes a similar face. “yeah, this is where the friendship goes to die.”

the host raises the first card, reading off into the mic. “what is your partner’s favorite food?”

without sparing any time to think, you uncap your marker and press the black tip onto the whiteboard. 

you write: anything overpriced and full of sugar.

beside you, satoru writes with an equally horrifying level of confidence.

“reveal!”

you both spin your boards around quickly, head swiveling not to gauge the audience’s expression, nor out of curiosity for what others may have written, but towards each other’s answers. 

his reads: whatever i’m eating if i look too happy about it.

laughter plays from the audience as the host begins to read through the boards starting from the right and you huff softly, taking the moment to talk to satoru. 

“that’s not even a food. if you don’t know, then just write that you don’t know, dummy.”

“it absolutely is.” satoru tuts, wagging a finger at you. “do you remember that one mixer we went to together? you said you didn’t want any of the finger food because your fingers will get greasy but then you immediately stole my fries anyway.”

“because you were making it a big deal and eating it all up in my face.” you recall the memory for yourself. “what even happened to that mixer? neither of us managed to get a date. i swear one of the guys was interested in me but he never asked for my number in the end. you were talking to him a bunch that night, what happened to him?”

your best friend only shrugs as the host comes around. they laugh a little at satoru’s answer, raising the card in their hand in your pair’s favour.

“i’m counting both as correct.”

the next question appears and a similar trend follows. 

“what is your partner’s most annoying habit?”

you put pen to whiteboard and write immediately. 

you reveal: talking during movies like the characters can hear him.

he reveals: pretending she doesn’t care and then texting me ‘home yet?’ every time i go out at night.

the audience lets out a collective coo that makes you want to fling yourself off the stage, though not before bashing his head in.

you turn to him in disbelief. “is it my fault for being worried about you? i swear you have the survival instincts of a capybara, i literally almost watched you run into a pole yesterday because you were too locked into a brawl stars game.”

“still counts.” your best friend shrugs. “i couldn’t really think of anything that annoying about you. and for the record, your movie answer is super duper rude. my commentary is valuable.”

“save it for your letterbox review. and anyway, we only really watch thrillers so it’s just you trying to call the plot twist before we get to it.”

“i’m killing it, by the way. i think i’m about thirty-nine out of sixty-two with getting them right.” 

the third question is favourite comfort show.

you get his right, though you hesitate between two because he cycles through them based on what exactly he needs comfort from. he’s almost offended you take so long to flip your board considering he gets yours right immediately.

“you remembered that?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

he looks at you like the question is ridiculous. “of course i remembered that. you think i don’t notice you putting it on when you’re feeling overwhelmed? i don’t even like the acting in it but we’ve watched it together at least twenty times.”

you hold his gaze for a second too long, words failing you, before jerking your head to face the front. 

satoru isn’t so quick to look away and you can feel his gaze burn into the side of your face until the host, mercifully oblivious or perhaps delightfully aware, moves on to dream vacation, favorite fictional character, worst childhood phase, and ideal weekend.

the embarrassing part is not that you get almost all of them right (failing only at celebrity crush), the embarrassing part is how easy it is.

you know that his worst childhood phase was the year he got into old samurai dramas and started using outdated, overly dramatic japanese like he was born in the edo period instead of suburban tokyo. he knows your ideal weekend includes a bookstore, a café, and being left alone by society at large. you know he still wants to visit akihabara with a budget too irresponsible to speak aloud and that he’ll beg to have you tag along. he knows you hate hiking but enjoy scenic trains and that you like silly sweet treats every now and then, sweeter too when you don’t have to pay for them. 

every answer peels back another layer of shared history for the audience to laugh over, and every time the crowd reacts, it drives home the same awful truth: the reason you and satoru are doing so well is because there are very few corners of each other left unexplored.

you find yourself having fun, though only after you’ve pushed that strange feeling to the back of your mind. you’re laughing along with the crowd at silly answers, reminiscing old inside jokes with a smirk, and giggling harder than you should at satoru’s corny jokes. he grins back, face a reflection of your own happiness. 

it’s so much fun that when the last question is read out, you’re not nearly as prepared as you should be. 

the host smiles too sweetly, drawing everyone’s attention with the tap of their mic. “last question and probably the most important of them all! what was the moment you realised you liked your partner?”

it’s a predictable question for an event called ‘sweetheart showdown’ and yet, you freeze, breath holding still. beside you, you can make out the sudden rigidity in satoru’s shoulders as he flinches. 

for the first time all day, neither of you has something smart to say.

you look down at your board as the crowd cheers and the couples around you write. 

there are a hundred fake things you could write, a hundred joke answers. or maybe, if you really wanted to give off the impression that you wanted to win, you might write something stereotypical. something about how pretty and soft his hair is, how he has that endearing habit of pushing up his glasses, how he has the most alluring eyes you’ve ever seen. you could even write about the time he won some casual magic: the gathering tournament in high school and took home absolutely nothing except a ten-minute bragging streak and a permanent reputation as the biggest nerd in your cohort. he’d come straight to you afterward, grinning hard, bouncing on the balls of his feet while he talked over himself because, for some reason, your approval had always been the one he wanted first. 

you could say something by the book about how his laugh is like music to your ears, and also his ears apparently considering how much he loves to laugh around you, how his smile is the only thing guaranteed to make you smile back.

instead, before you can talk yourself out of it, you write the first thing that comes to mind.

when the host counts down, you both turn your boards.

yours read: when he climbed the fence after we fought and sat outside my window until i forgave him.

his says: when i realised she kept every stupid little thing i gave her and thought i wouldn’t notice.

the crowd breaks into laughter and cheers at that, the host immediately launching into some delighted commentary as they start reading the other pair’s boards first. but you barely hear any of it. the noise seems to flatten at the edges, swallowed up by the fact that satoru is no longer looking at the audience or the judges or even the stupid whiteboard in his own hands. he’s staring right at yours.

then, after a second, he lets out the softest, most disbelieving little laugh. 

“climbed the fence?” he reads, and though he says it like a tease, there’s something thinner under it, something almost fragile. “why would i ever do that when i could’ve just opened the gate?”

heat creeps up your neck instantly and burns the tips of your ears.

you keep your eyes fixed on his board because you’re not sure what he might see if he looks at your face.

“at that age you weren’t tall enough,” you mutter.

satoru falls into a silence that does absolutely nothing good for your already fraying nerves. if anything, it makes everything worse. the air between you feels too warm, too thin, and suddenly the stupid little whiteboard in your hands is the only thing keeping you from running off stage. 

you quickly re-read his board and say, “what did you notice that i kept from you?” 

satoru’s eyes flick down to his own board and then back to yours, like he still can’t quite believe either of you wrote what you did. 

“you kept the little cat charm from the shrine trip,” he says. “the one i won from that stupid festival game and gave you because i said it looked grumpy.”

god, you’re just digging your own grave by asking for more details. because yes, you had. it had hung off your school bag for nearly a year before you took it off to keep it from getting scratched or stolen, and even now it still sits in the little dish on your desk with your keys and hair ties and other things too small to matter to anyone else.

you try to be dismissive. “it was a souvenir." 

the corner of his mouth lifts, but the smile doesn’t quite settle into his familiar grin. “and you kept every birthday card i gave you.” 

“sentimental value. i keep everyone’s.”

“you kept the toy ring from year seven,” he says finally, and now there’s a little more life in his voice again, though it still sounds gentler than usual. “the ugly one from the fair, the one that turned your finger slightly green. i only noticed because you kept it as a necklace for months.”

you look away, feeling fidgety and weird all over. “it’s still jewelry at the end of the day.”

satoru laughs then, but it’s quiet and warm around the edges, so unfairly fond it makes your stomach dip. “yeah, i know. i just liked that you kept a ring i gave you.”

the host fans themselves with the cue card. “is it just me or is it getting warm in here? let’s move on to results! clap your hands everyone, as we find out who will be crowned the sweethearts of all sweethearts!”

the crowd laughs again, eager to reach the climax of the event.

you are also eager, though it’s more because you’re grateful for a breather. 

the judges tally the scores while you try very hard not to look at satoru and fail at it almost immediately. when you do glance over, he’s already looking at you, and his expression is unsettled in a way you don’t often see on him. when he sees you’ve caught him, he looks away and pushes up his glasses. you don’t get a chance to sit in that for long.

“we have a tie!” the host announces. “lightning round!”

your head snaps to look at the scoreboard and notice that one of the coordinated cosplay couples had indeed caught up and were now tied with you and satoru. having this drag out for even longer makes your heart plead for mercy but there’s nowhere to run and you’re honestly too close to the hatsune miku figurine to quit now. as they say, 100% of losers quit before they hit it big. 

“all right,” they say, pacing the center of the stage with the microphone clutched in one glittering hand, “our final two couples are neck-and-neck, which means it’s time for the deciding challenge. and because our judges are evil romantics—”

the audience cheers like they have been waiting their whole lives for exactly this sentence.

“—the last round is all about physical chemistry!”

you’re not sure what you did in a previous life to deserve this, but it’s here now. 

you could honestly answer questions about satoru in your sleep. you could fill out an eighty-questions quiz on his day-to-day life and not only would you solve it with time to spare, but your name would appear in most answers. 

touching him is just as common, but suddenly the thought of having him in your personal space is enough to make you break out into a slight sweat which isn’t optimal, especially not when he might be touching you. 

the host claps their hands. “final round rules are simple! each pair will draw three prompts from the intimacy bowl. you must perform the prompt naturally enough to convince the judges you are a real couple and then, obviously, the best overall score wins.”

satoru hesitates beside you. he steps forward toward the host, hand reaching out to catch their attention. “like… a kiss on the cheek?” 

you almost choke as the host snorts. “obviously. maybe even more.” 

satoru looks back at you quickly. “hey, it’s okay. we can just go. we can, like, just be weird on purpose and make it obvious so we can lose. get kicked off the stage and you can call me an idiot and a dummy in the carpark and i’ll still get you crepes. i don’t really care about hatsune miku anyway, i just thought because i played project sekai once i should—”

you cut him off by sticking your hand in the bowl when it comes around. your fingers brush folded paper and then close around the first slip before you can think too hard about what you’re doing. 

‘prompt one: fix something on your partner’s face and hold eye contact for three seconds’.

this nothingburger of a prompt. if the two of you hadn’t spent the last few minutes stumbling your way into something dangerous, you could’ve done it without a second thought. but now that there’s this strange, terrible warmth lodged in your chest, threatening to swallow you whole and burn through you from the inside out, even the idea of holding eye contact sounds like hell. 

the host gestures invitingly. “whenever you’re ready.”

there is no universe in which you will find yourself ready. 

you can see satoru turn toward you from the corner of your eye but you don’t glance over, eyes trained instead at the giant cardboard hatsune miku just off stage and try to remember a time in your life when things were simple and you did not have a crush on your childhood best friend. but you weren’t one of those babies blessed with photogenic memory so you don’t have a single memory where that’s not the case to ground yourself with. 

“we can still tank it,” satoru whispers just for you to hear, even as he steps closer and lifts his hand. 

the offer is so soft it makes something twist low and mean in your chest because of course, even now, he’s trying to give you a way out. 

you look up at him then, not because of the prompt or the crowd or the stupid bright convention stage lights, but the fact that he would rather lose publicly than make this harder on you. his hand is lifted, hovering just shy of your face as he waits for your response. 

if only he was smug instead, if he was laughing or if he was being his usual awful self about this, then you would have something to fight against. but instead, he chooses to be sweet. and kindness has always been your weakest point when he is concerned. 

so you swallow once and say, “just get it over with.” 

and this is ridiculous. 

you have known this boy nearly your whole life. you have shared train rides and convenience store dinners and sick days and fights over game controllers and one horrible period in high school where he insisted on explaining the plot of every one piece episode you’d missed. he has sprawled all over your bedroom floor. you have patched scrapes on his knuckles. he has stolen bites off your plate and barged into your room with no restraint. there should be absolutely nothing destabilising about him being a little too close to you.

his hand caresses the side of your cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing just beneath your eye, and he does it so gently that you hold your breath. 

the host counts cheerfully into the microphone. “one, two, three—”

you know his face, you know every angle of it, every stupid expression, every little shift in his mouth before he says something arrogant on purpose. you know the look he gets when he’s trying not to laugh, the one he gets when he’s tired and pretending he isn’t, the rare, awful softness that appears when he stops performing in front of others and simply sits with you in your presence, content to do nothing important at all. 

“okay, now kiss!” the host continues and you both turn away from each other in an instant. 

“excuse me?”

“you said no kissing in the pamphlet!” satoru stutters. “not on the lips anyway!”

“you’re a couple, what’s there to be shy about?” they narrow their eyes, ping ponging their gaze between the both of you. “unless there’s a specific reason why kissing in front of an audience of people is unsettling for you?”

you make a gesture of your hand as if to ask if they’re serious. “that is the reason why it’s unsettling.”

the host makes a thoughtful noise before shaking their head. “what a shame, looks like the underdog couple has sadly been disqualified! everyone, please give them a round of applause as they exit the stage!” 

“just like that?” you question, incredulously. 

“if it matters, i was rooting for you guys.” the host pats you both on the back shortly before gesturing for people to guide you off the stage. 

you and satoru stand off to the side away from the sweetheart showdown, both stewing in silence. and god, is it a truly spectacular silence. 

certainly not the comfortable kind nor the easy silence you sometimes find yourself in when it comes to satoru. this one feels hot and cramped and absurdly loud for something made out of nothing at all. the convention still rages on somewhere behind you—distant cheering, microphone feedback, music bleeding in from another event hall—but here in the little pocket of hallway just off stage, it’s just you and him and the participatory key chains the staff had shoved into your hands before kicking you out. 

satoru is the first to look at his consolation prize.

the acrylic keychain dangles from his fingers, the tiny white cat in sunglasses swinging with every little movement of his hand. he stares at it for one long second, then lets out a short, helpless laugh under his breath.

“a runner-up gift, huh?” he chuckles. “doesn’t feel that good when you compare it to first place’s prize.”

you look down at your own, the black cat with the bow and the little spoon. “tell me about it.”

you fiddle with the edge of the plastic, more so to give your hands something to do than because you care about the cute, though cheap, prize. beside you, satoru rubs the back of his neck, then drops his hand, then shoves it into his hoodie pocket like even he’s run out of ideas for where to put the bundle of nerves responsible for this tension.

“you could have just kissed my cheek,” you start. “it’s not like we’ve never done that before. when we were kids.” 

and you’re not sure why that makes your heart picks up so fast. it’s not like he’s going to lean over and do it now, right? not when there isn’t a prize to win or a crowd to please or a host forcing the moment into existence.

“no,” he says and your heart drops. “i couldn’t have just done that.”

your throat tightens. “right, sorry. we’re not kids now anymore, are we? so it wouldn’t have made sense anyway. just—forget i said anything, that was stupid.” 

you push off the wall too fast, smoothing out your shirt with shaky hands just to have something to do. “i’m getting kind of sleepy, i’ll head back to the hotel room if you want to keep looking around—”

“if i kissed you up there, i would’ve meant it.”

everything inside you goes still. life seems to go on, the audience from the gameshow shrieks with laughter, someone jogs past the mouth of the corridor lugging an impressive scythe, and distantly there’s a baby crying in the background because you can never really avoid them. and still, somehow, the world narrows down to just him. 

satoru looks down for a second, hands clenching and unclenching before he looks up, something like determination on his face. 

“i know that sounds really pathetic,” he says, voice quieter than you’ve heard it all day. “there's nothing i can do about that. but i just—i really couldn’t do it like that, not as a joke or for some stupid figurine. definitely not with everyone watching. there’s no way i’d settle for that after i’ve been trailing after you for so many fucking years just to have the pay off be in front of a microphone.” 

your eyes widen at his words. years? there could have been something between you two for years?

you bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to almost hurt. “what are you trying to say?” 

“i’m trying to say that…” he trails off, mouth gaping as if there’s more he wants to say but the words keep catching before they can make it out. he lets out a rough little groan and ducks his head, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. “shit, this wasn’t how it was meant to go either.” 

“it’s okay,” you whisper, stepping forward to close the distance. “say it. i want to hear it anyway.” 

he looks back at you and makes a face though, its chances of passing off as nonchalant fails due to the pink dusting his cheek. “can we just go get crepes? i think the nerves are making me really hungry and something smells really good right now. okay, yeah, let’s just go get crepes.”

he closes the distance between you, not with the press of his lips against yours but with his hands on your shoulders, gently guiding you to turn around. “you know what we haven’t checked out yet? the artist alley. we should totally check in the artist alley.”

you dig your heels into the ground, unimpressed and unmovable. “satoru.”

“yes?”

“isn’t there something else you should saying to me right now?” 

satoru’s eyes freeze in their frantic jittering, finally settling on you. you watch his throat work as he gulps particularly hard, all deer-in-headlights and wrapped around your pinky finger. “i’m really craving those crepes?”

you smile and hit him in the stomach. he coughs, folding slightly around the hit with a noise of betrayal. “what the fuck—”

and while he’s doubled over, rubbing a hand over his stomach like it actually hurt, you step right into his space, cup his face in both hands, and kiss him. 

satoru makes the softest startled sound against your lips but his hands come up almost too quickly, one landing at your waist to pull you in, the other hovering before deciding your cheek, the side of your neck, your hand on his cheek, all of it is somehow too much and not enough at once. 

the kiss is clumsy with surprise and inexperience, though still warm, and there’s nothing hesitant in the way he kisses you back after that first second. 

you’re not really sure when to pull back, you always thought it would be a little more intuitive than it really is, and you think you might have pulled back a bit too early since he chases your lips a bit before realising. 

you open your eyes to find him staring, and frown. “wait a minute, did you even close your eyes during that?”

“um,” he starts before clearing his throat. “no?”

“you must be kidding.” you blush all the way to the tips of your ears, mind whirring with how you must have looked dazed out of your mind, lips pressed against his. “satoru, it’s kissing 101 to close your eyes!”

he shakes his head, eyes unfocused as he stares at you. “give me a moment. nothing is making sense in my head right now.” 

you cross your arms, a feeble attempt at regaining your dignity. “how long is that going to take? because i might as well go first. satoru, ever since we were kids, i’ve—”

“i’m in love with you.” 

the words are said with so much clarity that you struggle to believe it’s coming from your flushed face, dorky childhood best friend until he opens his mouth to continue. 

“i think i’ve been for a while,” he says at all once, speaking quicker now that the worst has already been done. “long enough that it’s not something dramatic but something that’s always been a part of my life. like, of course i save things to tell you first. of course i wait for you. of course i know what drink to get when you’re sick and which lectures you’ll want to complain about and what new movie releases you’re excited for. i think i’ve gotten so used to you being a part of everything i didn’t even notice when it stopped being friendship and started becoming something else.” 

you blink at him. he mistakes your silence for rejection immediately, something like panic seeping into his hurried words. 

“and yeah, okay maybe i orchestrated the whole showdown thing because you never seemed to look at me as anything but a best friend. that really sucked. but i’ve never thought of you as just that and i needed you to know. so no, i couldn’t have just kissed you on the cheek. it wouldn’t have been how i wanted it to be.” 

you still don’t say anything, too busy standing there with your pulse hammering stupidly in your throat and your entire body trying to catch up to the fact that this is real, that he it, that he means it.

satoru lets out a frustrated breath and drags a hand through his hair. “i mean getting punched in the stomach wasn’t the go-to either but i can’t ever figure you out so i’ll take it.” 

that makes you laugh. it bursts out of you all at once, breathless and startled, and the second he hears it, his whole face changes. the panic doesn’t immediately disappear but it certainly falters, teetering into a desperate kind of hope. 

“sure, like that's not going to hurt my feelings,” he says weakly. “okay. is that a good laugh or a bad laugh?”

you shake your head, still smiling helplessly. “it’s a you’re-an-idiot laugh.”

“right.” he watches you carefully. “as long as it isn’t a i’m-rejecting-you laugh?” 

“it’s definitely not that. those two sound very different and i’m not that cruel.” you look at him, at the boy who used to climb your fence because he was too short to work the latch properly and refused to go home angry, cute little frown between his brows suggesting he won’t give up, not when it comes to you. 

and the words come easily, as though you’ve said them a hundred times before. 

“i’ve liked you for ages too.” 

satoru’s lips part in wonder, shoulders slumping with the loss of a stubborn tension keeping him upright.

“i mean, i figured that’s what you were going to say earlier but this still feels unreal. really?” he breathes out, the corner of his mouth quivering. “are you serious?”

“is my sense of humour so bad that you think i’d joke about this?” you tease softly. 

“no, i—” he breaks off, pressing a hand flat to his chest to stop his heart from beating out. “no, hold on. you can’t just say that and make fun of me for being so shocked. you like me? like, like like?”

“like like like.” 

he presses a hand to his mouth which is definitely not the gesture you were expecting. maybe a kiss, or a hug, definitely not this sudden quickening of his breathing. 

“what the hell is wrong with you?” 

he shakes his head, clearing his throat aggressively.

your frown only deepens. “hey, are you okay? should we find somewhere to sit down?” 

satoru waves his hands in front of him as he pulls away, leaning one forearm against the pole of a nearby vacant stand, other hand clutching his heart. his shoulders lift on an inhale and stay there for a second too long. when he exhales, it’s shaky around the edges in a way that would be concerning if not for the fact that he’s smiling at the concrete ground, dopey and dazed. 

“satoru,” you say. 

he glances back at you over his shoulder, and the look on his face is so painfully relieved, so openly, stupidly happy, that it makes your own stomach flip. 

“i feel like i’m going to throw up,” he says, voice thin and breathy. “i’m so relieved i almost feel sick. which i get isn’t a cool thing to admit right after getting confessed to so i need you to sympathesise with me and don’t say anything at all.”

you stare at him for a still moment before laughing.

he closes his eyes. “i knew asking you nicely wasn’t going to work.”

“what the hell?” you repeat between chuckles. “you’re acting like that was your first kiss.” 

“that’s because it was, you know this,” he grumbles, still catching his breath. “oh my god, the world is spinning. is there an earthquake or is it just me?”

“definitely just you.”

“it’s unfair that you aren’t as affected.” 

you shrug. “it helps when there’s someone else more nervous than you are.”

“it almost sours the whole thing,” he says while looking at you from the corner of his eye, lips slightly jutted out and your heart swoons. 

“come here.”

he pushes off the stall and turns back to you, though his hand stays over his chest for one more second like he’s still trying to make sure his heart doesn’t leap out of his chest. you look up at him, laughter trailing off into soft giggles and then to nothing at all, just a sweet smile. 

you look at the flush lingering over his ears, the slight way his hair is messed up from when you grabbed his face, to the ridiculous little cat keychain he still has clutched in his hand. he looks like a disaster, a pretty one at that. 

reaching up, you fix his bangs from poking into his eye. “you were that nervous?” 

he laughs softly under his breath, tilting his head into your hand until it feels natural to cup his cheek. “you have no idea.” 

“i think i have some idea.”

“no, because if you did, you’d be a lot kinder to me right now.” his eyes flicker down to your mouth, doing a double take when he’s about to look up to meet your eyes because you lick your lips at his gaze. “can i kiss you again?” 

you don’t answer right away, not because you’re trying to be cruel nor because you don’t know the answer. this is your satoru, though that thought still feels too dangerous to hold properly, and he’s standing in the ugliest, most overstimulating hallway in the building with pink at the tips of his ears and one hand still hovering near his chest like his own confession had nearly killed him. 

you hadn’t let yourself picture something like this. no, that wasn’t quite the truth either. you had pictured it, of course you had, because you are only human and he has always been the one for you. you had pictured this that one time he had showed up to your house, asking your parents sweetly if you were in, plastic bag on his arm full of notes and your favourite drink, acting like it was no big deal to sit on the ground by your bed and play his ds while you were sniffly and snotty curled up in bed and watching over his shoulder. you had pictured this when he let you fall asleep on his shoulder during exam season and didn’t move an inch, even when you started to drool on his shirt. 

but at some point you had started burying those thoughts the second they appeared. 

because he got older and easier to want, especially after he swore off bowl cuts after his dad had given him a shitty one and he had cried to you while you struggled to not laugh. haircuts on guys really did wonders for their appearance. it had started to feel pathetic to like him, almost childish in a way like some embarrassing crush you should have outgrown before puberty but hadn’t because you were too sentimental, too soft, too far gone to call it what it was.. 

so you pushed it down and folded it into safer shapes and titles; he’s just your best friend, we just have history. 

you want to slap your past self across the face. but because time travel hasn’t yet been invented and you can’t give yourself a mean scolding, you settle for simply smiling and nodding. 

“you’re asking as if i’m going to say no.”

satoru’s mouth twitches, but the softness in his face doesn’t move. “i feel like i’m owed caution. you’ve been saying no to me all day.” 

you roll your eyes. “that was before.”

“before what—”

you kiss him again because if there’s one thing you know about satoru, is that his mouth is a motor and he never stops talking, not without some sort of divine intervention. 

your lips move smoother against one another, tasting the sweet drink he had chugged before the whole showdown incident. the warmth of his mouth, the slight tremor in the breath he takes when you shift closer, the way he seems almost reverent in the small pauses between kisses like he still can’t believe he has you in his arms. 

you kiss him back a little deeper and something inside you finally, finally unclenches. 

when you pull back, you don’t go far. his forehead drops lightly to yours, and for a second neither of you say anything. the convention noise swells and fades somewhere far away, distant enough to feel unreal. 

you can hear him breathing, can feel it even, feel the shape of his smile before he speaks. 

“yeah, i definitely feel a little sick.”

“satoru, if you throw up on me i’m going to hit you again.”

“romantic.” he leans forward to steal a quick peck, face beaming when he pulls back because now he has every right to kiss you whenever he gets the urge. “but i think i’d rather have that instead.”

“verdict on your stomach?”

he winces. “unsteady. maybe i need some more exposure therapy?”

you laugh because he’s testing his luck far too much. “nice try. you still owe me that eighty bucks.” 

satoru chuckles softly and lets you step back, though his hand finds yours and holds it lightly as if to keep you within his proximity. “and if i remember correctly, i think i still owe you those crepes. man, i am really killing it with this boyfriend thing already.” 

he grins, but his ears go pink again, which is so stupidly endearing that you have to start walking before you do something embarrassing like kiss him in the corridor again. 

he follows happily, ever the obedient little puppy until something catches his eyes and he digs his heels in, making you stop. you follow his line of sight automatically.

there’s another stage set up farther down the convention hall, smaller than the sweetheart showdown one but definitely louder, all flashing lights and too much pink. a host in a glittery jacket is currently shouting into a microphone while a crowd of people packed around the barricades cheers back. above them, hanging from a sign shaped like a heart with cat ears, are the words:

MIKU MANIA COUPLES CHALLENGE — SPECIAL BONUS ROUND

you close your eyes for one brief, exhausted second. “you have got to be kidding me.”

“come on,” he says, eyes bright enough to rival the stage lights. “let’s go win hatsune miku properly this time.”

you look at him then, really look at him, at the pink still clinging to his ears, the stupidly hopeful grin on his face, the hand wrapped around yours like he’s already sure you’re coming with him. and all at once, all you can think is that maybe saying yes to satoru’s terrible ideas was always going to be your favorite habit.

a/n: i am always going to be a fan of childhood bestfriend slop i fear. im so sleep deprived rn if i messed up ur tag please lmk! i have a scene where they fuck and satoru’s in a miku cosplay so also lmk if ure a freak and wanna see