#hitting 100 on there was like...woah...nice...

That day was a normal morning.

…Or it was supposed to be.

What I saw when I woke up was…

I was completely covered in black, glossy fur, with quite a long tail.

I had triangular ears on my head and whiskers on my face.

(This can’t be… why did this happen?)

No matter how many times I looked in the mirror, I could still see a small black cat in the same pose I was in.

(Ah, A black cat… why a black cat…)

I panicked and my thoughts spiraled out of control.

(Oh, speaking of black cats, yesterday--)

--Flashback—

--Yesterday I went out to town with Ellis.

Ellis: “Sorry, I had to keep you waiting for today’s date because I had some urgent work to do this morning.”

Kate: “Well, it was Jude’s call. Also, I like how hard you work at your job, Ellis.”

Ellis: “…Thank you. I love you too, Kate.”

Kate: “…Hehe and the new bakery you told me about as an apology was also really nice.”

The basket that Ellis was holding was filled with all kinds of bread, and the smell was delicious.

Ellis: “I ended up buying every kind.”

Kate: “All the breads look delicious. Which one would you like, Ellis?”

Ellis: “Let’s split everything in half. Then you can try all of them.” 9016

Kate: “Got it, hehe.”

At that moment, a black shadow quickly crossed in front of my eyes.

Kate: “!”

Ellis: “…It’s a black cat!”

A black cat stopped on the roadside, looked back once, and then quickly ran off.

Kate: “She’s cute… What a beautiful girl.”

I couldn’t take my eyes off her until I could no longer see her small form as she lightly carried herself away.

Ellis: “…Are you curious?”

Ellis looked into my face.

Kate: “Yeah, I felt like petting it. I guess it’s a stray cat… I hope it’s not hungry.”

Ellis: “You’re so kind, Kate. But for now, I’d like you to just think about me.”

(!)

His big hand wrapped around mine and our fingers intertwined, becoming a lover’s bond.

Kate: “Yeah… haha, sorry. I got distracted.”

When I squeezed our joined hands, Ellis smiled softly and gave me a firm squeeze in return.

Ellis: “I’m looking forward to the bread. It might taste even better with lots of jam.”

Ellis: “Let’s go home early.”

--End Flashback—

(…all of the bread I ate with Ellis was delicious.)

Immersed in the fun memories of yesterday, I was startled once again when I saw a black cat in the mirror in front of me.

(The black cat in front of me is me, right… what should I do?)

I was so frazzled by the turn of events that I couldn’t stand still.

(Help me…!)

I jumped on the doorknob and managed to run out of the room.

I headed straight for my beloved’s room.

Although, when I arrived in front of Ellis’ room I froze—

(…But Ellis, I wonder if you’ll notice that it’s me.)

Suddenly feeling anxious, I paced back and forth in front of the door.

(I can’t even knock… I should try calling out.)

Kate: “Meow (Ellis, are you awake?)”

(I-I can’t even talk… What should I do?)

As I was pacing around again, the door suddenly opened in front of me.

Ellis: “Woah…!”

(!)

Ellis’ foot hit me, the black cat.

Ellis: “I’m sorry! Are you okay?!”

Kate: “Mrrow Meow (No, it’s okay! It’s my fault for wandering around in front of the door.)”

I felt a little bit of pain, but I didn’t want to concern Ellis, who was looking at me worriedly, so I responded with a chirp.

Ellis: “It was you who made that cry earlier. I thought Kate was playing a prank on me, calling to me like that.”

Kate: “Meow! Meow meow… (It’s me! The black cat is me…)”

Every time I screamed loudly, pain shot through me, and I reflexively cringed.

Ellis: “You look like you’re hurting somewhere… I’m really sorry.”

Ellis: “I know, let’s have Roger check it out.”

Kate: “Mew…! (It’s okay…Ah!)”

Before I could even try to stand up, Ellis’ large hands gently scooped me up.

Ellis, holding me close to his chest as if wrapping himself around me, whispered to the black cat reassuringly.

Ellis: “…Don’t worry, Roger is a nice person.”

(Ellis… you’re so kind…but…it’s bad for my heart.)

It was a little awkward, but I couldn’t help but feel excited seeing Ellis’ face, gently holding the black cat and looking down at me.

While I was trying to calm down, Ellis walked to the basement without hesitation.

Ellis: “Thank you, Roger.”

Roger: “Well, I was just thinking that I wanted to deepen my understanding of living things other than humans and dogs.”

Kate: “Meow (Thank you, Roger.)”

Roger carefully examined my hind leg, diagnosing it as a minor bruise but wrapping a bandage around it, just in case.

Roger: “There doesn’t seem to be any internal damage. If you stay calm, the swelling will go down and you’ll be healed in no time.”

Ellis: “… I mean… I’m glad… but, I’m sorry.”

Seeing Ellis’ complex smile, as if both relieved and apologetic, my heart tightened.

Roger: “…yeah?”

Suddenly, Roger pricked his ears as if searching for something.

Roger: “…”

I was nervous because I was closer than usual to Roger, who was intently looking at the black cat.

(Can you hear my heartbeat?)

(If it’s different from a normal cat… maybe you’ll notice it’s me.)

(But it’s impossible for a human to turn into a cat… so I don’t’ think Roger would even consider it.)

Ellis: “What’s wrong, Roger?”

Roger: “…No, it’s nothing.”

Roger: “If you don’t mind, I’ll take care of this cat.”

Ellis: “Thank you, but I want to take care of her. It’s my fault she got hurt.”

Ellis: “…And I’d like Kate to meet her. When she saw a black cat yesterday, she said she wanted to pet it.”

(! He remembered that.)

I was even more excited to see Ellis thinking of me like this even when I wasn’t around.

Roger: “Even if you take care of her, don’t you have to go to work?”

Ellis: “It’s okay, she’s still a kitten, so if we do this, we can stay together.”

I was gently picked up and tucked into the chest of Ellis’ jacket.

Kate: “Mrrow? (What?)”

As a black cat with only my face sticking out from Ellis’ chest, it felt like I was a stuffed animal.

Ellis: “Now you don’t have to accidentally bump into something and get hurt.”

Roger: “Damn, it’ll be interesting to see what kind of face Jude makes.”

Kate: “…”

(Even Roger is amused… Agh, Ellis is so warm… It’s even warmer when I think about it.)

I was pressed tightly against his firm chest, and the pounding, powerful sound of his heart reverberated through my whole body, making me feel dizzy.

Even the scent of his soap was too strong for my small self, I couldn’t move and my heart was racing.

Roger: “…”

Ellis: “I’m going to go invite Kate to breakfast.”

Roger: “Oh, tell the little lady I say hello.”

Roger’s eyes were fixed on me, the black cat, with a knowing smile on his face that made me feel uneasy.

Roger: “When the cat calms down again, let me examine it.”

You weren’t even supposed to be here today. Or, well—yes you were, it’s the practice before a big interschool match, but you were supposed to be wearing your own jersey, on time, and definitely not branded in the name of your captain’s sworn enemy.

You tried. Swear to god, you did. But the only jersey you could find this morning was either missing or buried under two loads of laundry. So you grabbed the first clean one that looked vaguely like yours.

You thought it was yours.

In your defense, you were still half-asleep, and the clock said 6:43 a.m. The jerseys are nearly identical.  Because, for some reason, this year the school admin chose the exact same color scheme for both rival teams.

You’d just sprinted here after spending the night at Haerin’s apartment—something you’ve done a few times now. Something that’s not supposed to mean anything. Something that ends, usually, before morning.

But this time you left in a rush and grabbed the wrong damn shirt.

Practice barely continues after that.

You try to focus on the scrimmage, but it’s hard when everyone’s still side-eyeing you like you’ve just committed treason. Which—fair enough. If there was a basketball version of war crimes, this would probably super duper qualify.

And then, because the universe is actively out to get you, the enemy team shows up.

They’re supposed to be practicing after your slot—the admin confirmed you had the court till 5—but here they are anyway, bags slung over their shoulders, already yelling across the gym.

“Double-booked again,” Winter mutters.

“That’s the third time this month.”

“Budget cuts,” Yunjin shrugs. “Coach Kim’s off for the week, so they’ve got assistant coaches juggling slots.”

At first, nothing. Just the shuffle of sneakers, the echo of bouncing balls, low voices. Then someone points.

“…Wait.”

You can feel it in real time as the recognition hits.

Minjeong elbows Haerin, eyes wide. “Woah. Is that your jersey?”

Yunjin lets out a dramatic gasp. “Scandalous.”

That’s all it takes.

“Nice jersey!” someone calls out, louder this time.

Another whistles. “Looking good, twenty two!”

Even Jiwoo is giggling, biting the sleeve of her hoodie like she physically can’t contain it.

Your team. Their team. Even the assistant coach chuckles under his breath before pretending he didn’t hear anything—Which is insane, because if this were Coach Kim’s practice, you’d be benched until 2050.

But the assistant only mutters something about 'running behind schedule' and waves you back into the drill.

You glare at the source of the comment, only to catch Haerin and she’s already looking at you.

She’s wearing her own jersey, of course—It hangs slightly oversized over her frame. Her hair’s down, parted off-center, dirty blonde strands brushing her shoulders. She looks…

Ugh. You hate that she looks good.

She smiles—not smug, just amused. You scowl anyway, because seriously, what is there to smile about?

It must show, because when your eyes meet hers, her smile falters

You clench your jaw and try to focus on the scrimmage again.

Try.

But it’s hard when your brain is short-circuiting as you can feel Minji’s eyes burning holes into the side of your head. 

So of course, you get ankle-broken.

One sharp crossover from Ryujin, one split-second of distraction, and you’re flat on your ass, fumbling for the ball.

You catch yourself with your hands, the gym echoing with sneakers and a faint "ooohhh" from someone on the bench.

The buzzer goes off, signaling the end of practice.

You shove yourself off the floor faster than necessary, wiping sweat from your face with the hem of the very jersey that’s ruining your life.

Your team starts heading toward the lockers. You’re right behind Minji, chewing the inside of your cheek.

And of course, there they are—Haerin’s team, sitting right by the entrance to the locker hallway, sprawled out like they own the place. Some of them are scrolling through their phones. Some are pretending to stretch but mostly just gossiping. Haerin is sitting on the bench, arms resting casually on her knees, eyes locked on you.

“Hey,” she says quietly when you pass.

You shoulder past her, deliberately but not enough to knock her off balance.

Her hand brushes yours as you move, maybe on accident, maybe not. Either way, you pull back like she burned you.

And you don’t look back.

-

Inside, Minji corners you almost immediately.

She doesn’t yell. She’s too smart for that.

She just pulls you aside while the others fumble with their bags.

“Okay,” she says as she crosses her arms. “Talk.”

You stare at your shoes as you feel your throat dry.

“It’s not serious,” you blurt out. “I’m just—seeing her. Like, casually.”

Minji’s expression doesn’t change much. She exhales through her nose. Shakes her head, like she’s already aged five years in the last ten minutes.

“Casually,” she repeats.

“Yeah.”

“So you’re casually making out with Kang Haerin and casually wearing her jersey to practice.”

From across the room, Hanni lets out a low whistle and immediately pretends to cough.

Ryujin mutters something like, “that's crazy,” under her breath, loud enough for only Chaewon to hear, who promptly smacks her arm.

You don’t look at them. You can’t. You keep your eyes on the floor.

“…I didn’t mean to wear it, Min.”

“I know,” she says, eyes narrowing. “That’s the problem.”

You go still and your brain flashes back to the reason you stayed. The reason you didn’t leave before morning.

-

Last night wasn’t supposed to happen.

You were supposed to leave after the usual routine—make out, maybe tease each other a bit, then part ways before anyone could catch feelings or catch you at all.

But Haerin had other plans.

Her room smelled faintly like lavender and green tea, the same scent she sprays every night before bed. You’d seen her do it. Two spray toward the ceiling and one to her bed, like it was a ritual. 

Her cat-patterned aroma diffuser’s light blinked quietly in the corner and there's some old romcom movie playing on her laptop in the background, muted halfway through. You don’t even remember which one. You just remember the soft hum of dialogue, the warm blanket of sound that made the room feel smaller.

You were both in frog pajamas—her idea, obviously.

“This is embarrassing,” you’d whispered, tugging at the sleeve.

Haerin just smiled, eyes focused on the screen but her attention on you. “It’s not,” she said softly. “It’s cute.”

Then she hooked her pinky with yours under the blanket, like she did all the time.

Later, when you tried to sit up to do the responsible thing, leave before you broke your own rules, Haerin shifted closer.

“Stay a little longer,” she murmured, voice scratchy from sleep. Her thumb traced the edge of your collarbone, slowly and carefully.

You sighed. “We said no sleeping over.”

“I know.” Her gaze stayed on your shoulder, lashes brushing the top of her cheek. “Just this once.”

Her voice went even softer, barely above a whisper.

“Please…?”

You should’ve left. You know that now. You should’ve left early, grabbed the right jersey, done anything but this.

But instead… you let her pull you back down.

And now, here you are.

Minji is still watching you, jaw tight.

“I don’t care who you hook up with,” she says finally. “But Haerin? Seriously?”

You shrug, mouth dry. “We don’t even talk about basketball.”

“That’s not the problem.”

She shakes her head. “It’s perception. You think Coach won’t notice when the footage shows you in her jersey? You think the team won’t start wondering if you're giving them plays, if you’re even all in anymore?”

Your stomach twists.

“People talk,” she continues, quieter now. “They assume things. Doesn’t matter if they’re true or not.”

She digs through her bag and tosses you a clean jersey. You catch it on reflex.

“You’re wearing that to the real game,” she mutters.

You nod, throat tight. “Yeah. Got it.”

Minji doesn’t smile. She doesn’t say it’s fine or don’t worry about it. 

She just turns away, pulling her duffel over her shoulder.

“Let’s go,” she tells the others, voice clipped.

Hanni gives you a brief look—something between sympathy and good luck—before following her out with the others trailing after

The door clicks shut behind them.

-

“No.”

Minji doesn’t even look up when she says it. Just pulls her hoodie over her head and starts fixing the laces on her shoes.

“Come on, Kim,” Haerin tries again, pacing in front of her like a restless cat.

“No.”

“Just five minutes?”

Minji raises an eyebrow. “What part of no do you not understand?”

“I’m not asking for your blessing. Just five minutes.”

“And I’m not giving it,” Minji replies, deadpan. “You’ve got five seconds to walk away.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You’re so annoying.”

Haerin huffs, cheeks puffing out slightly. She glances around like she’s calculating the odds, and then—because Haerin’s the type to try anything once—she picks up the nearest ball.

“If I make this shot from half-court,” she starts, voice calm but eyes locked onto Minji, “you let me talk to her.”

 Minji tilts her head, eyes narrowing. “Half-court?”

“More than half, actually.” Haerin steps back a few extra feet just to prove a point. “Watch me.”

Without another word, Haerin takes a few steps back, exhales, dribbles once, then launches the ball in a perfect arc.

Clang.

It hits the rim and bounces off.

Minji crosses her arms, stone-faced. “Wow. You sure showed me.”

“That was—” Haerin blinks. “—that was just a warm-up.”

“She looks so defeated,” Ryujin chimes from the bleachers behind Minji. “Minji, at least pretend to have a heart.”

“No.”

“You’re so cold,” Ryujin mutters.

Haerin mutters something under her breath that sounds like it shouldn’t be repeated in front of children.

“Let her go, Min,” Hanni adds, shaking sweat from her bangs. “She’s literally on her hands and knees right now.”

“I’m standing,” Haerin corrects.

“Same difference.”

Minji sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Fine.”

Ryujin’s jaw drops. “Favoritism,” she mouths dramatically.

“In two conditions,” Minji adds, shooting her a look.

Haerin perks up “Two?”

“One—you take a video of yourself saying I’m better than you, and you post it.”

“Done.” Haerin already has her phone out.

“Seriously?” Hanni's eyebrows raise

“I’ve lied worse” Haerin shrugs.

Minji ignores her. “And two—” she pauses, just to make it sting a little. “You leave her alone after this. For real this time.”

That actually makes Haerin think.

For a second, she doesn’t say anything.

But then the locker room door swings open behind them.

“Smells like vanilla in there—” you say, half-laughing, fumbling with the hem of the new jersey Minji gave you.

Minji mentally facepalms.

“Y/N?” Haerin’s voice softens when she sees you.

Your head snaps up at your name. She sounds… soft. Startled, almost.

You glance toward her, and you don’t mean to—but your heart lurches at the look in her eyes. Sad. A little confused. Like she doesn’t know whether to smile or frown.

Don’t answer her, you tell yourself.

“…Yeah?” your gay ass replies, instantly betraying you.

Haerin takes a small step forward—but she stops herself.

Then her gaze drops. Just for a second. To the number on your jersey.

24?

Not yours. Not hers.

Her gaze flickers to Minji’s.

Oh.

It’s Minjis.

“Can we talk?” Haerin asks, quieter now.

Minji stiffens. “No, she can’t.”

“Minji—”

“No.”

But of course, you—being you—nod anyway.

“…Yeah,” you mutter, because apparently you hate yourself.

Minji glares at you like she’s about to physically sit on you to prevent this from happening. Ryujin and Hanni immediately grab her by the arms before she can move.

“Don’t.” Ryujin huffs, half-laughing, half-struggling to hold her back. 

“This is a bad idea,” Minji grits through her teeth, but she doesn’t fight too hard. “I’m literally gonna kill her.”

“We know,” Hanni says, patting Minji’s arm. “We’ve heard. Five times.”

“Six,” Ryujin corrects.

Haerin’s already turned her back by then, motioning for you to follow.

You do.

Because you’re weak.

And gay.

The two of you walk down the hallway, sneakers scuffing against the gym floor, not saying much. It’s quiet, except for the distant sound of Minji muttering death threats from the other end of the court.

Inside the rival team’s locker room, it’s cooler. Dimmer. No one else is there yet.

Haerin heads straight to her locker, pulling it open like she’s on autopilot. She doesn’t speak at first. She just rummages around like she’s looking for something specific.

You stand there awkwardly but as you glance down at the bench beside her bag— you see something:

A keychain.

Your keychain.

The one you gave her months ago at some random convenience store, because she said the frog was cute and you said something like “then keep it, dumbass” to cover up the fact that you meant it.

It’s still there. Dangling from the zipper of her gym bag. Kinda worn out now, but still there.

Before you can say anything, Haerin turns back around, holding something in her hands.

Your jersey.

“Here,” she says simply, holding it out.

You stare. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“I stole it.”

“You what?”

“From your place. A while ago. You were in the bathroom. I was bored. Sue me.”

You gape. “I tore apart my entire closet looking for that. You’re insane.”

“Yeah, well. I liked the way it smelled.”

“That’s not—You can’t just—Whatever.”

She smirks. “You’re welcome.”

“For stealing from me?”

“For saving you,” she replies, glancing briefly at the number on your chest. “If I hadn’t taken that, you’d still be wearing your captain’s ugly-ass jersey.”

You squint. “We have the same jersey.”

“It looks ugly on her.”

You open your mouth, close it. “That’s—childish.”

“Mm.” Her lips twitch. “Still true, though.”

“…Why didn’t you give it back earlier?” you ask, quieter now.

She pauses.

“You ignored me.”

You wince. “Okay—yeah, that’s… my bad.”

There’s a brief silence.

She lets out a breath, glancing away. “I shouldn’t have smiled. That was dumb of me.”

“It's all good.” You take the jersey, fingers brushing. “So… first to score later?”

“Obviously.” She pauses, then adds, “Unless you want me to let you win. I can be generous.”

You roll your eyes. “I’d rather die.”

“That can be arranged.”

Her eyes crinkle just slightly, cheeks lifting, and you hate how warm it makes your chest feel.

Rattle, rattle, rattle.

The doorknob twitches, like someone’s testing it first.

Haerin sighs, already knowing who it is. Her voice stays flat, barely louder than a murmur.

“Relax, Yunjin. We’re not making out.”

The door creaks open, and a redhead pokes her head in, grinning.

“...Hey,” Yunjin says innocently. “Just grabbing my bag.”

She tiptoes in like the floor’s made of eggshells, swipes a tote from the bench, and freezes again near the exit.

Then—with a dramatic pause:

“…Happy Pride Month—”

“Out,” Haerin deadpans.

Yunjin cackles all the way out.

From outside, you hear Minji calling for you.

You glance at Haerin, silently asking permission.

She nods, but her eyes don’t quite meet yours.

You step toward the door—but you hesitate. Just a second.

Then, before your brain can stop you, you lean in and press a quick kiss to her lips.

A soft peck. Barely there.

“Watermelon?” you say, licking your lips. “New balm?”

You don’t wait for an answer. You flash her a small smile and head out, the door clicking shut behind you.

Haerin stays standing for a second longer, eyes fixed on the spot where you were.

Then she exhales. Slowly.

Her hands drop into her lap—and one of them’s still holding the note she never got to give you.

Decorated paper. Small doodles in the corners. Folded three times because her hands wouldn’t stop shaking when she first wrote it.

“You didn’t give it to her?” Yunjin slips back in, eyebrows raised as she watches Haerin slump onto the bench.

Haerin shakes her head, lips pressing into a pout. She stares at the note in her hand like it’s mocking her.

“I was going to,” Haerin murmurs. Quiet. Almost to herself.

“Right. Super smooth plan,” Yunjin says, leaning against the lockers. “Step one, steal her jersey. Step two, win her heart.”

Haerin glares at her. “I was literally about to make it official, okay?”

“With a note, babe? What are you, twelve?”

Haerin grabs the nearest thing and throws it at her face.

“Shut up.”

Yunjin catches it midair, laughing. “You’re so down bad it’s embarrassing.”

“Out.”

Yunjin laughs, heading for the door. “Be who you areeee—”

The door swings shut behind her.

And for a moment, it’s quiet again.

Haerin sighs, leans back against the locker, and looks down at the note still in her hands.

It’s crumpled now. A little smudged at the corner where her thumb’s been pressing it too hard.

She runs her finger over the doodle in the corner where there's two frogs sitting side by side.

Then, after a second, she folds the note back up.

“Next time.” she murmurs.

-

You ended it after the game.

No more late-night calls that turned into sleep.

No more hangouts after practice.

You chose the team.

And Haerin—she chose to understand.

 Mostly.

She didn’t ask you to stay. Haerin knew before you did that some things aren’t built to last, no matter how right they feel at the time.

Your team won, people cheered and you smiled for the photos.

But when you glanced across the court, she was already gone.

It made sense, you both told yourselves.

So you left it there—where it started. On the court.

Some things are easier that way.

But sometimes, when the room’s too quiet, you catch yourself wondering if she still thinks about you.

If she still keeps that frog keychain on her bag.

If she meant it, back then.

And you don’t reach out.

Because what you had was real, for what it was.

And for now, that’s enough.

-------------

Aaron nearly drops the coffees as he rushes over. He manages to sit the cups on the floor before whacking at Robert’s arm and seeing his eyes flicker open again.

“Did you just hit me again?” Robert’s voice sounds all sleepy. Aaron rolls his eyes at his words.

“Look my car hit you, not me.”

Robert scowls, and then stops because it’s clearly hurting his head. “The first time.”

Aaron slumps back on his chair, crosses his arms over and instantly regrets spending an extra £1.50 on the coffee he bought for Robert. “I could have let you sleep if you wanted, slip into a nice coma.”

Robert sighs, tilts his head back a little. “Could do with the rest.” He says.

It’s almost funny.

Aaron doesn’t actually laugh, a smile threatens to spread across his face so he decides to stare down at his phone instead. Robert makes another small sound and presses a hand to the back of his head.

“Oh. Here.” Aaron remembers the coffee cups on the floor. Robert has the audacity to pull a face. “Not up to your standard?”

Robert takes the coffee slowly. “At all.” He says and then winces again. Aaron mirrors him because he’s an empath at heart, when it matters. Robert doesn’t notice, or at least he pretends not to.

“Are you going to explain why you threw yourself at my car? Cry for help maybe?” Aaron's only half joking but Robert scowls at him and it makes him sit up straighter and feel sorry.

Robert shifts in his seat. “I’ve just been dumped.”

Aaron was expecting about a million other things to be said but that. He doesn’t know how to respond so he doesn’t.

“She just dropped me off at the side of the road, told me to do one. I wasn’t looking properly when you came up.”

“Too right.” Aaron can’t help but mumble the words out, be a little bit of a prick about it.

It’s not received well, Robert scowls right at him.

“You’re unbelievable. Why don’t you just leave? I’m not dead. I’ll pay for any of your damages or whatever.” Robert waves a hand out. Aaron should grab Robert’s phone, put his number in and piss off but he keeps his feet firmly on the ground and refuses to move.

“No.” Aaron folds his arms over. It doesn’t really make sense why he wants to stay. Robert is rude and annoying and Aaron’s pretty sure those two characteristics have anything to do with the large bump on the back of his head but he’s not going anywhere.

“Fine.” Robert waves a hand out like he isn’t bothered either way.

Aaron sits with his arms folded until it feels uncomfortable, then gets his phone out and starts playing a game on it. Robert watches over his shoulder, Aaron can feel it. Eventually, he turns and looks right at Robert.

“What?”

“I don’t even know your name.” Robert says.

Aaron feels something go woosh right through him. “Aaron.” Robert nods and then hisses at the pressure he must be feeling from moving. Aaron tuts. “You shouldn’t be moving.” He says.

Robert sighs. “I just nodded.”

“Well don’t.” Aaron snaps. Then he shifts himself a little so Robert has a better view of the game he’s playing. “You have to get the gems into the –”

“I know.” Robert says. “I play this all the time.”

“Yeah?” Aaron makes the mistake of looking right at Robert suddenly. Robert is really close to him, peering at the game like he’s ten and bored at a Christmas party, craving some sort of stimulation. “You’ve got freckles.”

Aaron just blurts the words out. No other thoughts at all.

“Your eyes are blue.” Robert points out and there’s a tiny little bear to his voice but he likes it.

Aaron blushes hard, he feels it and then tells himself to get a grip. “Anyway.” He clears his throat and looks down at his phone. “This bit’s a little difficult.” He says, like Robert cares about having a running commentary.

Two hours crawl by. Somewhere along the time, Robert’s ended up half lying on the emptying row of chairs. Aaron’s leaning against him just a little.

“Go on then.” Aaron says, voice a little croaky from all the talking he’s had to do.

Robert raises an eyebrow. It does something to Aaron’s chest, tightens it a little.

“Why’d you get dumped?”

Robert suddenly looks deflated. “Her dad hates me, probably wants to sleep with me.” Aaron’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Which I obviously wouldn’t do, he’s ancient.”

“And a man.” Aaron waves a hand out.

Robert shrugs. “That doesn’t bother me.” He says, and then he looks at Aaron for a second too long maybe. Aaron feels like he’s going insane.

“Me either.” Aaron finally says.

Robert pulls this annoyingly unreadable face, he almost smiles and then doesn’t and Aaron tries to erase it from his mind.

“So she believed him when he said I was probably going after her business. Which, OK it was true but I didn’t actually get the chance to do anything so.” Robert shrugs.

Aaron realises very quickly that Robert is a complicated character, it doesn’t make him any less interested.

“Right.” Aaron says. “Which is when you fell into my car.”

Robert smiles faintly. “Glad it was your car.” He shrugs, and his eyes drift shut a little. Aaron’s first thought is that Robert is definitely concussed. He hit his head hard and he’s been slurring his speech a little for a while now.

Aaron sits up and holds Robert’s arm tight to shake him a little. Robert’s all limp and tired and he complains when Aaron pinches him.

“Oi, I like ya don’t ruin it.” Robert mumbles.

Aaron loses the signal to his brain for a second after hearing that. Then it reboots.

“Yeah – yeah well same.” Aaron shakes Robert hard, he isn’t sure he’s meant to do that but he does. Then he’s got a hand through Robert’s hair, stroking it softly like being gentle will do the trick instead. “Hey, can we have some help here?” He shouts, and then a nurse is taking over.

Robert is concussed. He has stitches put in and Aaron chews his fingernails off waiting to hear if he’s OK. Eventually, after a lot of mithering and pleading, Aaron pulls the curtain back and smiles at Robert sitting up on the bed.

Robert has this shy smile on his face and he looks a lot less pale than he did before. His hair is flat against his hair and he’s sipping water from a plastic cup.

“Hey.” Robert says and he scoots himself up on the bed, sitting a little straighter like Aaron’s important or something. “So the uh – the nurse said if I wasn’t brought in and I fell asleep at home I could have – well it wouldn’t have been good.”

Aaron feels his hands shaking a little, he realises the thought has shaken him. They keep shaking. He has no clue why he’s nervous. Then he does. For some strange reason, Aaron’s realised he really likes Robert. He’s known him for a day and he likes him and that so rarely happens. He doesn’t let that happen.

Aaron shrugs with one shoulder. “So I saved ya, is this your way of thanking me?”

“No.” Robert says seriously.

Aaron bites his lip and regrets trying to sound a tiny bit flirty. “Oh. Right.” He takes a step back. “Well I’m glad your –”

“You forgot to give me your number.” Robert says, he’s all charm suddenly. Aaron has a feeling he’s seen multiple versions of Robert Sugden in a single day. For some reason, he knows he’s lucky to be able to say that.

Aaron stops moving. “I’m a mechanic. The repairs shouldn’t be –”

“For me to thank you.” Robert says slowly.

Aaron gulps hard, his mouth feels so dry it’s stupid. “I don’t need any money or anything, like I said it –”

“Can we go on a date? We can just get coffee or something if you want, way better than the ones here.” Robert just says it. Aaron watches Robert’s pupils shift a little, he’s definitely not still concussed. “I want to thank you, and well – I just want to see you again.” He’s smiling now. He’s so certain and looks all handsome and also was nearly half dead less than an hour ago.

“OK. Sure. Yeah.” Aaron knows he’s blushing. He decides to embrace it at this point. Robert pops his number in Aaron’s phone, saves it as Robert and then an emoji of a car and a droplet of blood. Aaron laughs when he looks at it and then steps back.

“My sister’s going to pick me up, let me crash at hers for a bit.” Robert explains. Aaron watches as Robert quite clearly just soaks him in and then he smiles. “I know you’ll worry.”

“Shut up.” Aaron rolls his eyes and feels this fondness just seep through him. He needs to get a grip. “I’ll uh … text ya then.”

Robert nods. “You better.” He says.

Aaron nods, and then he walks forward and kisses Robert hard on the mouth because every single fibre in his body tells him to. Robert kisses him back with nearly as much gusto and then winces when Aaron tries tugging on his hair.

“Car accident. Your car. Stitches. Remember." Robert whispers as he pulls away.

Aaron gasps. “Shit are you –” Robert laughs. “God you’re annoying.” He whispers. It makes Robert laugh even more. It’s a really nice sound.

“Hey.” Robert holds at Aaron’s hand suddenly. Aaron can’t remember the last time a bloke held his hand. It feels nice, warm and soft and something he thinks he’ll keep craving. “Thank you.”

Aaron bites his lip. “Don’t mention it.”

“Oh I will.” Robert says.

And he does. Aaron has to roll his eyes every time Robert introduces him to someone from that day onwards.

It’s not Aaron’s this guy I’m seeing, it’s this is Aaron: he hit me with his car.

It’s not Aaron my boyfriend, it’s this is Aaron: the handsome man whose car hit me.

It’s not Aaron my fiance, it’s this is Aaron: the absolute boy racer whose car hit me.

It’s not Aaron my husband, it’s this is Aaron: my beautiful husband whose car hit me.