#noonaclock

Suddenly, your spiraling thoughts were interrupted by a knock on your window, and your heart leaped up into your throat as you jumped in surprise.

Brian was now standing next to your car, his brow furrowed in confusion, so you let your pulse slow down somewhat before opening the door to get out.

“The meeting is about to start,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “I saw you were still in your car, so I thought I’d wait for you, but then you weren’t getting out.”

“Sorry,” you replied hurriedly, reaching in to grab your copy of Pride & Prejudice before closing your car door. “I was… just zoning out, I guess.”

Brian’s look of confusion morphed into one of concern – a subtle difference, but you caught it.

…And just when did you gain the ability to pick up on the nuances of Brian’s different facial expressions, huh?

Whatever, it’s not important.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his gaze searching your face.

“Of course,” you assured him. “I think I’m just… nervous about who’s going to win the bet. I really don’t want to buy you dinner.”

You’d pulled one corner of your lips up into a smirk as you’d said that, and Brian responded by rolling his eyes.

“Didn’t you just pay for takeout the other night?”

“Because you offered to pick it up,” you pointed out. “That’s different.”

Brian opened his mouth to rebut, but apparently, thought better of it. So, instead, he said, “If we don’t go inside now, we’ll be late, and since I’m leading the discussion…”

“Lead the way,” you said, gesturing toward the entrance.

Brian hesitated briefly, and you could tell he was probably going to ask you if you were sure you were okay – so, you didn’t even give him a chance to.

“Go,” you chuckled, shooing him away from your car and following him. “Like you just said, we’ll be late!”

And, funnily enough (but not actually funny at all), now that Brian was standing/walking next to you, all of your worries seemed to fade into the background of your mind.

“Wait, wait, hold on,” one of your fellow Book Club members, June, said. “I – There’s just no way you told him that you’re a government spy who trains pigeons and he believed it!”

You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing and nodded slowly. “I wish it wasn’t true, but yes, I did tell him that. And he did believe me.”

The rest of the Club burst into laughter.

“I don’t know about you guys,” another member, Aimee, said. “But between the podcast, the emotional evolution, and the government spy, I have to give the bet to Y/N.”

“Your dates were bad, too, Brian,” June added with a friendly but placating smile. “But… I have to agree. Y/N’s dates were definitely worse.”

Every one else nodded and murmured their agreement, and then Aimee led a round of applause for you.

You stood from your chair, plastering an ‘I’m so grateful and humbled’ expression on your face, dramatically clutching your hands at your heart. “Wow, I can’t believe this. I’d like to thank the Academy and my ability to spot red flags from a mile away and, most of all, my best friend, Brian.”

You gestured to him sitting next to you, and he lifted one hand in acknowledgement.

“Without him, this bet wouldn’t have been possible – it would’ve just been me going on three really terrible dates.”

As you’d hoped, the room filled with appreciative chuckles.

“I don’t take this honor lightly, and I will enjoy my free meal with your generosity in mind.”

The Club applauded for you yet again, and after one final smile and wave, you took your seat.

You glanced over at Brian and saw he was clapping along with everyone else – but he was also smiling at you, and the look on his face… You didn’t want to say it was… loving, but… that’s kind of what it felt like.

Were you totally and completely imagining things? Did all of these little moments and gestures and looks actually mean something? Or was your brain being overactive?

…Unfortunately, the quickest and best way to find the answer to that would be to just ask him.

But how?

How on Earth were you supposed to ask one of your closest friends, someone you’d known for years, if the more-than-friendly tension between the two of you was real or if you were just imagining it?

Since the discussion and vote on the bet had followed the discussion of Pride & Prejudice, the Club members began to stand and disperse.

Your mind was too distracted to stay and chat with anyone, so you reached for your book and purse in silence before getting up and heading toward the door.

When you reached the small foyer of the Community Center, though, you felt someone approach you from behind – and then you saw Brian’s arm reach out and open the door for you.

Why were you surprised?

“So,” he began with a sigh. “I owe you dinner.”

To hide the buzz of activity in your brain, you raised your eyebrows and pasted a grin onto your lips. “That you do.”

“Are you… free tonight?” he asked. But then he quickly raised his wrist up to check the time. “Right now, I guess?”

Oh! He wanted to take you out to dinner right now! Tonight! 

Okay!

“I am,” you nodded. 

Before you could even begin to think of where you wanted to go, Brian took a half-step closer to you and said, “How about… Rue Saint Claire?”

You couldn’t stop yourself from rearing your head back in surprise, just a little, because Rue Saint Claire was a nice restaurant. It wasn’t a Michelin-star, can’t-get-a-reservation place, per se, but it was certainly more upscale and intimate than your usual hangouts.

Your frenzied, overwrought brain told you to ask him if he was sure – wasn’t that place too expensive, too cozy, too date-like?

But what you ended up replying with was, “Sounds great.”

“If you want, we can take my car, and I can drop you back off here after?”

Perfect! Not only has Brian asked to treat you to a dinner at a really nice French restaurant that the two of you had never been to before, but now he was offering to take you there!

This was sounding suspiciously more and more like a date!

“Okay!” you replied, hearing the strain of anxiety creeping into your voice.

But if Brian heard that anxiety, he ignored it. Which was just as well, because how could you explain it to him? Even explaining it to yourself, it sounded insane.

Just to be safe, though, you followed him to his car in silence and kept the conversation during the ride there to an absolute minimum – and even then, you only talked about the Book Club discussion.

But you knew you wouldn’t be able to get away with that at the dinner table, and that was more than a little daunting.

“Are you sure about this?” you murmured just after a very well-dressed maître d’ showed you to your table – a very, very cozy table tucked in the corner of this very, very cozy, dimly-lit restaurant that had soft Parisian instrumental music playing in the background.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Brian chuckled. “We just went on three really bad dates. I think we deserve something nice.”

You had been gazing around the restaurant, taking in just how intimate and quaint and nice and, frankly, romantic it was – but Brian’s answer made your gaze land on him.

“Okay, well, when you put it like that,” you said with a relenting shrug. “Yes, I agree, We deserve something nice.”

A server approached your table, then, and before you could order your usual water or diet soda, Brian requested two glasses of Bordeaux and a cheese plate for the table.

Of course, as soon as the server left, you opened your mouth to protest – but Brian beat you to it.

“We just went over this,” he said with a slight smirk. “We deserve something nice, so we’re getting something nice. You can have as many glasses of wine as you want. I’ll only have the one, and I can drive you home and pick your car up tomorrow if we have to. Deal?”

You slumped down into your chair just a bit, a frown tugging at your lips. Because he realy was doing too much! This wasn’t necessary!

But Brian was Brian, and he wasn’t going to give in. In fact, the more you protested, the more he would dig his heels in and try to make the evening even more extravagant.

“Deal,” you muttered. “Thank you.”

He replied with simply a nod, the corners of his lips forming a soft smile, and that was your final sign to just let it go. Accept your prize for winning the bet, and enjoy this night out with one of your closest friends.

As you waited for the server to return with your wine and cheese, the two of you perused the menu, chatting softly about what sounded good (everything) and whether or not you should share multiple entrees so you could try more (yes, absolutely).

Then, once the server arrived and set down your glasses and plates, took your order, and left, Brian lifted his glass of wine and held it out toward you. You did the same, and since he’d done it first, you waited for him to decide what the ‘cheers’ was for.

“To really, really awful dates,” he said, grinning softly. “May we never go on any more ever again.”

“Oh, I will cheers to that,” you chuckled before gently tapping your glass against his and taking a sip. The wine was deliciously dry and fruity, and honestly, probably the best wine you’d ever tasted. “Wow, this is really good.”

Brian hummed in agreement.

“Anyway,” you sighed, carefully setting your glass down and folding your arms on the edge of the table. “I think I’ve decided that I’m done with dating for a while.”

Maybe forever? Who’s to say?

“Oh?” Brian replied, his brow notched questioningly.

You pressed your lips together and nodded slowly. 

And you assumed that Brian would agree with you because why wouldn’t he? He’d been on three bad dates, too. Surely, he was also drained and didn’t want to waste any more time going on dates.

But, to your surprise, he frowned and said, “That’s too bad.”

You frowned right back at him.

“...How so?” you asked, your tone almost one of suspicion.

Because what did he mean?

Brian inhaled deeply then, and… if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looked… nervous.

But Brian didn’t get nervous. I mean, he’d never been visibly nervous about something the whole time you’d known him, not even during presentations or exams at University.

So what on Earth could be making him nervous now?

“It’s too bad that you don’t want to go on any more dates because I was hoping this could be a date.”

…You blinked at him.

“I – what?” you gaped.

“If you don’t want to –”

“No, wait,” you interrupted, though you weren’t entirely sure why you’d interrupted other than this weird feeling in your gut that you needed to. “I just… I’m… I guess I’m… confused?”

“What, my picking When Harry Met Sally…for movie night wasn’t enough of a hint?” he asked with a chuckle.

What was that supposed to mean?!

“Hint?” you asked dumbly.

“It’s the ultimate friends-to-lovers rom-com,” he explained.

“Well, yeah, I know that, but – what – “

You paused. You took a deep breath. And then you reached over, placing a hand on Brian’s wrist.

“I need you to explain everything to me without leaving out a single detail.”

A smirk tugged at Brian’s lips, and he moved his free hand to cover yours, taking hold of it and lifting it off his arm. But rather than setting your hand back on the table, in your own personal space, he held it. He delicately stroked his thumb over the back of your hand.

And, boy, did that make your stomach do somersaults.

“Going on those dates with those girls who were so completely wrong for me, where I felt so uncomfortable and uneasy, like I couldn’t be myself, and then immediately hanging out with you after each one – where things were completely the opposite – just made me realize that I wasn’t going to find someone who I wanted to spend time with more than I want to spend time with you.”

He paused, then, and you took another breath.

“But… they were bad dates,” you pointed out, though there was barely any strength to your voice at this point.

“I know,” he chuckled. “But that doesn’t matter. I just… know.”

“...Know what?” you whispered.

“That I don’t want anyone else but you. You’re literally everything I could ever want in a partner and more, and… I’m in love with you.”

You simply stopped breathing then, and because of that, you lost the ability to say anything.

After a few moments of silence, Brian started to let go of your hand and said, “It’s okay if you don’t –”

This caused a flurry of panic inside of your chest, and you quickly took his hand back. “No, it’s not – Wait, hold on.”

Brian paused again and, thankfully, didn’t let go of your hand.

“Hold on,” you repeated, trying to give yourself some time to gather your thoughts. "I just need to – so, all of those… moments between us were not my imagination running away with me?”

“No, but I’m curious to hear what moments stood out to you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, conveying your irritation – Brian may be in love with you, but he was still as obnoxious as ever. 

“Well, you didn’t wake me up when I fell asleep on your shoulder, first of all. In fact, it seems like you purposely let me sleep instead of waking me up with your scene-by-scene commentary, plus the volume was lower, and the blanket, and –”

“Yes,” he interrupted. “You may not have noticed that my movie choice had meaning, but at least you noticed all of that.”

“And you got my order right at that one place earlier this week, but I didn’t even tell you what I wanted,” you added.

Brian simply nodded, but then said, “I wanted you to see that I pay attention.”

“And… I don’t know, I’ve just been feeling this… tension. But not a bad tension, just…”

You trailed off, and Brian squeezed your hand.

“I think that tension, as you call it, is just my feelings for you.”

You nodded slowly, allowing his words – the ones he’d just said as well as everything else – settle over you.

You weren’t imagining things. Brian did, indeed, have feelings for you, and he’d been showing you.

But now that you no longer had to worry about that, you did have to worry about… whether or not you felt the same.

“I –” you began. “Bear with me, okay?”

Brian just squeezed your hand again.

“I don’t… know… how I feel about you. I mean, I know that I love you so much as a person, and I cherish your friendship so deeply. I just… don’t know… if it’s more than that. And I don’t mean that in a ‘I don’t think I can ever have more than friendly feelings for you’ way. I mean that I very well could also be… in love with you. I just haven’t realized it. I… I don’t know.”

“You very well could be in love with me?” he asked, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Well – okay, for example,” you began. “Movie night. I texted you right when I left the restaurant, and I just assumed you would reply immediately. But you didn’t, and… that bothered me. I couldn’t stop thinking about why you weren’t texting me. And, actually, even before that! During my date with Emotionally Evolved guy, I kept thinking about you and if you’d been there and how your date was going and… and hoping you would text me. And then you put your jacket on me. And… and, also, I noticed the tension but wasn’t grossed out, and after I woke up and you said you should leave, I… I wanted you to stay.”

During this quasi-incoherent speech, your gaze had been focused mainly on the table or on Brian’s hand holding yours.

But now, you lifted your eyes to look at him – or, rather, to look back at him, since he was already gazing over at you.

“So… that all kind of sounds like I possibly could have feelings for you,” you admitted, your voice only now betraying how nervous you were.

“Possibly,” Brian agreed. “But I don’t want to rush you or pressure you. If you need some time, you can take as much as you need.”

Honestly, hearing those words lifted a pretty big weight off of your shoulders, and you actually let out a sigh of relief.

I mean, not that you thought Brian would give you an ultimatum or anything. He was obnoxious, but he wasn’t unreasonable.

Most of the time.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Thank you.”

Brian squeezed your hand one last time before letting it go and reaching for the cheese plate.

Surprisingly, the rest of the dinner was incredibly normal. There was no awkwardness, no discomfort, no uneasy silence.

In fact, there may have actually been some flirting?

The idea of flirting with your best friend was still somewhat strange, though, so you couldn’t be sure.

Nonetheless, the food was exquisite, you limited yourself to a singular glass of wine, and… if you were being honest, you couldn’t think of anyone else you’d rather have sitting across the table from you.

When you thought about all of the excruciating dates you’d just been on in the last month, it made tonight seem like the best evening you could possibly imagine.

And then, before you knew it, Brian paid the check, and the two of you made your way out to the parking lot.

Now, this was new. You hadn’t made it this far on any of your bad dates, so you weren’t used to this part of the date. And the fact that you were with Brian?

Your heart began to beat out of your chest.

With the sun long gone and the sky bathed in deep evening blue, a chill had settled into the air, sharp enough to raise goosebumps across your skin. 

When you suddenly felt Brian’s hands brush your shoulders, you jumped, realizing your gaze had been glued to the ground – but then, when you actually looked up, you saw he was, yet again, putting his jacket over your shoulders, and a grin sprang to your lips.

The instinct to reach out and take his hand, linking your fingers together, tugged at you. It just felt… natural. 

But before you could give into that instinct, Brian murmured, “I’ll get the door for you,” and you discovered you’d already made it to his car.

That instinct was still tugging at you, though, but not necessarily to hold his hand. You just couldn’t figure out what.

And, to top it all off, you also still couldn’t figure out if you returned his feelings.

You kind of assumed that you did, but there hadn’t been any sort of lightbulb moment during dinner. And, for some reason, you needed a lightbulb moment.

So, you moved to stand in front of the car door handle, stopping Brian from opening it. You took a breath, and you turned to face him.

If a lightbulb moment wasn’t going to present itself, then you’d have to invite one on your own.

“Can you…” you began, finding your voice was shakier than you’d prefer. 

Were you nervous? Yes, of course. What you were about to ask would change everything. But you didn’t want it to be obvious that you were nervous.

Brian furrowed his brow, his gaze locked on yours.

Y/N, just say it.

“Can you kiss me?”

Brian’s head jerked back in surprise, just slightly, and his mouth fell open to form a small ‘O.’

“Can I –”

“Just to see,” you clarified hurriedly. “Y’know, if I… feel anything.”

He nodded slowly, and said, “Ah, I see.” But you saw a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

As he took one step closer to you, you tilted your head up and closed your eyes, mentally preparing yourself to feel his lips on yours.

…

…

…Any second now.

…

…

You carefully peeked through one eye, seeing that he was still just standing there.

“Are you –”

“Yes,” he chuckled. “I’m getting there. You’re not the only one who’s nervous here, y’know.”

“Okay, sorry.”

You closed your eye again.

“Thank you for your patience,” he murmured. He had, apparently, stepped even closer because you could feel his breath on your forehead.

“You’re welcome,” you whispered.

And then, you felt his fingers gently brushing against your cheek — so lightly and carefully, like he was giving you time to pull away if you wanted to.

But you didn’t pull away.

His palm curved around your cheek, and just after his thumb delicately pushed up under your chin to tilt your head… he kissed you.

His lips were soft against yours, wanting but not at all desperate, and it took you less than a second to decide that it was the sweetest yet most devastating kiss of your life so far.

…And also the most brief.

As slow as he’d been to initiate the kiss, he was just as quick to end it.

When he pulled back, you blinked at him.

“...Was it that bad?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“What? No,” he answered. “What do you mean?”

And you realized that your response was going to tell him everything he needed to know about your feelings – it would tell you everything you needed to know about your feelings.

“You ended it too soon.”

Unsurprisingly, one corner of Brian’s mouth tugged up into a half-grin, and he laughed softly.

“My apologies,” he chuckled before swiftly and smoothly capturing your lips in another kiss.

This time, you slid your arms around his middle, resting your hands on his back and gently clutching his shirt in your fingers. And, after a few moments, you even rose up onto your toes, giving him every indication that you were, indeed, kissing him back.

Really kissing him back, as if you’d been kissing each other for years.

And, honestly, maybe that was your lightbulb moment.

Not the kiss itself, not the butterflies in your stomach or the warmth blooming through your chest, or even the way your heart was now on a mission to beat itself right out of your body.

No, the lightbulb moment was just… how easy it felt. How natural.

There was no awkwardness, no uncertainty, no pressure to perform or impress or carefully calculate your every movement the way you had on every terrible date over the past month – or any date you’d ever been on in your whole adolescent and adult life, actually.

You weren’t wondering what Brian thought of you.

Because you already knew.

And you trusted it. You trusted him.

This realization settled somewhere deep inside you, so suddenly and so completely that it almost stole the breath from your lungs.

This wasn’t mentally or emotionally draining, and it wasn’t forced...

…It was Brian. Warm and familiar and safe in a way that felt almost life-altering now that you finally understood it.

When you finally pulled back, it was only far enough to look at him.

He tipped his forehead just enough, resting it lightly against yours. His hands were still steady against you, giving you every indication that he had no intention of letting go anytime soon.

And honestly?

Good.

A soft laugh escaped you, breathless and disbelieving all at once.

“…Yeah,” you murmured. “I love you, too.”

You felt him smile before you kissed him again.

“Can you turn on the TV?” you called out from the kitchen as you put away the leftover pizza and prepared to recycle the boxes.

“You got it,” Brian replied, and you heard him let out a soft groan, presumably as he plopped down onto your couch.

After you slid the leftovers into your fridge and popped into your garage to stuff the boxes in the recycling bin, you rushed over to the kitchen sink to wash your hands.

“Do you want anything else?” you asked, drying your hands with a towel.

“No, just you, get in here!” Brian answered with a slight whine.

“All right, I’m coming,” you chuckled.

Once your hands were dry (enough), you shuffled out of the kitchen and into your living room, hurrying around the back of the couch.

Brian held out his arm for you, impatiently waggling his fingers to invite you next to him.

“Goodness,” you sighed as you settled in at his side, a grin curving your lips when you felt his arm curl around and behind you, his hand landing on your hip and patting it affectionately. “So clingy tonight.”

“Tonight?” he asked. He then leaned even more toward you, pressing his lips to your temple. “I’m always clingy.”

“Mm, true,” you murmured.

Ever since that night – your official first date at Rue Saint Claire and the kiss in the parking lot – you’d spent time with Brian every day, without fail. You had each extended open invitations to each other’s home, and while you had cashed in on yours more than a few times to go and listen to him practice his music, Brian had basically become your permanent houseguest (not that you were complaining).

He also took you out whenever you both had time – dinners, lunches, breakfasts, plays and musicals, walks in the park, concerts, used bookstore crawls, museums.

But you had to say, your favorite dates were those just like tonight – cozy movie nights at your place, just like old times.

Except now, of course, there was exponentially more cuddling and kissing involved.

Brian leaned back against the couch then, remote in hand as he scrolled through the options.

“Okay,” he said after a moment. “I’m thinking Pride & Prejudice.”

But you had something else in mind, and you didn’t even hesitate to reply with, “No.”

Brian huffed out a quiet, bemused laugh. “Wow. Immediate rejection.”

“Well, I know what I want,” you stated. “Put on Northanger Abbey.”

At that, Brian turned his head to look at you properly, one eyebrow lifting in amusement.

“…Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously,” you nodded.

“You’re choosing Northanger Abbey over Pride & Prejudice?”

“Absolutely.”

“You?” he asked dramatically, placing one hand against his chest. “You, who has watched the 2005 Pride & Prejudice enough times to qualify for residency at Pemberley?”

You snorted. “First of all, rude,” you replied, even though it was certainly true. “Second of all, this is different.”

“Oh?” Brian asked, clearly entertained now. “And how exactly is this different?”

You shrugged lightly, trying – and failing – to look unaffected and casual.

“...Well,” you began slowly, “I’m dating Henry Tilney now, so...”

The grin that spread across Brian’s face was immediate and helpless all at once.

“Oh, my god,” he laughed softly. “You’re still on this?”

“You’re the one who brought up Mr. Darcy in the first place,” you reminded him.

“Yeah, and you destroyed my argument in under thirty seconds.”

“Because I was right! I am right!”

Brian shook his head fondly before shifting closer, his arm tightening around your waist. “And you’re still standing by that?” he murmured.

“I am,” you replied easily. “You’re not brooding enough to be Darcy.”

“Wow.”

“You smile too much,” you continued.

“Wow.”

“You actually enjoy talking to people.”

“Okay, that one feels personal.”

You laughed quietly as he pressed another kiss to the side of your head.

“And besides,” you added more softly, curling a little closer into his side, “Henry Tilney was always my favorite, anyway.”

That earned you a moment of unusual silence.

Not awkward silence, just unusual since, as you just established, Brian typically enjoyed talking.

You titled your head up to see Brian looking at you with that same unbearably warm expression that still made your chest feel too full every time you caught it directed at you.

“…Yeah?” he asked quietly, searching your face as affection poured out of his gaze.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

His smile softened into something almost shy before he leaned down to kiss you – a kiss slow and familiar by now, yet still capable of making your heart trip over itself.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead briefly against yours.

“Well,” he murmured, voice warm with amusement, “good thing you ended up with him, then.”

You smiled, unable not to.

“Mm,” you hummed. “Good thing.”

Satisfied, you whirled around on your heel and led Brian back into your kitchen. Your stomach had started grumbling about ten minutes ago when Brian had texted you that he and, most importantly, the pizza were on their way.

After setting the boxes down on your kitchen counter, the two of you opened them and piled up your plates in companionable silence -- though you knew that wouldn't last long. Brian was, as the cool people said these days, a yapper. If he wasn't talking, that only meant he was actively thinking of the next conversation.

Lo and behold, as soon as you both plopped down onto your couch, Brian didn't even wait for you to lean over and grab the remote before saying, "All right, since we're not talking about anything fun --"

"What!" you scoffed.

"What are we watching?" he asked, ignoring you completely and lifting a slice of pizza from his plate to begin eating.

Somehow, you managed to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

"Well, I figured since the next book we're reading is Pride & Prejudice, we should watch the movie to prepare."

"Right, sure, of course," Brian replied, his smirk apparent in his tone of voice. "It's not at all because you just love this movie and watch it almost every week."

"Exactly," you grinned, successfully holding back a mischievous giggle. You then gently tossed the remote to him before springing up out of your seat. "Totally forgot the drinks. What do you want?"

"Whatever's fine," he replied after you. "Soda, if you have it. But not diet!"

This time, you did roll your eyes -- a regular occurrence around Brian, if you hadn't picked up on that yet.

But, being the incredible friend you were, you kept cans of regular, full-sugar soda on hand just for him.

I mean, or for any other guest you might have who preferred regular, full-sugar soda. Not just Brian. He wasn't your only friend, certainly, and he wasn't the only friend who came over to your home.

Anyway.

After procuring two cans -- one diet, one regular -- you shuffled back into your living room, handed Brian his drink, and once again took your place on the couch.

"Just in time," Brian murmured before pulling the tab of his soda can and cracking it open with a fizzy hiss.

As the gentle sound of birds twittering and the soft piano music of the first scene in the movie filled the room (after the fizzy hiss), you briefly closed your eyes in pure elation. "Ugh, this movie has one of the most beautiful openings of all time," you stated with a whine. And as soon as Keira Knightley popped up on the screen, you said, "And did you know that she's reading --"

"Pride & Prejudice, yes, I know," Brian finished. "I have watched this movie with you before, y'know."

"I know --"

"Many times."

"I know --"

"And I do pay attention!"

"I know!"

"Hush, I can't hear," Brian scolded, reaching over and attempting to zip your lips.

You, of course, responded by elbowing him (gently, so as not to knock any of his drink onto your couch), and he immediately moved his arm back.

This kind of interaction was very typical for your movie nights with Brian.

Heck, it was typical for your entire friendship with Brian. From the moment the two of you had met in one of your classes at University, you'd had a relationship -- friendship -- based on good-natured bantering and teasing.

And, honestly, you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Hey," Brian said suddenly, causing you to jump slightly. You'd been so engrossed in the movie and had (almost) forgotten he was sitting right next to you. "Don't you think I'm like Mr. Darcy?"

You immediately furrowed your eyebrows, frowned, and turned to look at him.

"...I'm sorry?"

"Don't you think me and Mr. Darcy are similar?" Brian asked, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips -- and this made you think he was just joking.

"Oh, sure," you replied sarcastically. "Definitely. So similar I sometimes can't tell the two of you apart."

"No, I'm serious!"

His rebuttal made your head rear back in shock, and your confusion only grew.

"Bri -- what?! You think -- Mr. Darcy?"

And when Brian replied with a nod, you simply let out a single Ha!

"What do you mean ha?!" he cried, clearly offended.

"You're not like Mr. Darcy at all!" you pointed out, and you truly couldn't believe that you had to point that out to him.

Brian pursed his lips in disagreement, leaned back against the arm of the couch to turn and face you better, and requested, "Enlighten me, please."

"Mr. Darcy is shy and quiet and socially awkward and a snob. He is both proud and prejudiced, but he's completely unaware about it. You, on the other hand, are exactly..." You lifted one hand and acted as if you were counting out something with your fingers. "None of those things!"

Of course, you anticipated that your spot-on explanation would render Brian speechless -- if only for a short while.

Alas.

"But he's also handsome, generous, wildly smart, loyal --" he countered.

"There's absolutely no way you could be Mr. Darcy, even though both of you may share those qualities," you interrupted. "No, you're -- oh, I know, you're Henry Tilney. From Northanger Abbey."

Now this did render him speechless -- if only for a short while.

"...Okay?" he questioned, his tone one of great uncertainty.

"No, listen, you're absolutely Henry Tilney. He's outgoing and friendly," you began, feeling your heart begin to beat a little bit faster in excitement. "He's witty, charming, sarcastic, plus all of the things you said about Mr. Darcy. Generous, smart, loyal."

"Don't forget handsome."

"I think it's safe to assume that all romantic leads can be considered handsome," you replied with a quick eye roll.

"I mean, not necessarily," Brian smirked. "Beauty standards were pretty different back then."

Rather than give into Brian's goading and start a friendly, low-stakes argument, you simply replied with, "You're Mr. Tilney, and that's the end of it."

Before he could retort or try to continue the friendly, low-stakes argument he had wanted so badly to start, you grabbed the remote, turned up the volume, and pushed back even further into the couch cushion.

Being the wildly smart person he was, Brian chuckled softly and murmured, "All right, Henry Tilney, it is," before following your lead and focusing back on the movie.

"How did Jane do it?" you asked as soon as the credits began to roll.

Brian stretched his arms up into the air, letting out a soft groan. "Do what? Write the best love story of all time?"

"Well, yes, but how did she write five other novels that are also considered to be among the best stories of all time?"

"Because..." Brian began, a smirk slowly curving his lips. "She was an incredibly talented writer."

You rolled your eyes and reached over to swat his shoulder. "Yes, but -- it doesn't throw you into an existential crisis thinking about how these novels were written over 200 years ago, and yet, they're still wildly popular across the globe? All of them! And even the ones she didn't finish get made into movies and TV series!"

Brian didn't answer right away. Instead, he leaned over to reach for your remote, turned off the movie and your TV, then leaned back against the couch once more.

Then, he turned his head to look at you and said with a chuckle, "No."

But before you could let out an irritated huff and said, 'Okay, fine, you can leave now, goodbye,' Brian continued speaking.

"It doesn't throw me into an existential crisis, I just think it's amazing. It fills me with... awe and wonder. And I think about how Jane's mind would be blown if she could see how popular she still is, even 250 years later. And that just makes me... happy."

You blinked at him for a moment, and then said simply, "...Oh."

"Why does it throw you into an existential crisis?" he asked with a bemused grin.

"I don't know!" you replied with a laugh. "I guess it makes me think about time and how quickly it passes, and it also makes me sad that she never got to see how beloved her novels became, and that her house is a museum, and they celebrate her birthday, and people around the world travel to see Mr. Darcy's house and watch the movie on the lawn every year. I just... I wish she could know how much her writing means to so many people."

"Ah," Brian murmured softly, glancing down at his lap. "That kind of existential crisis."

You simply nodded in return, swallowing down the lump in your throat.

The two of you sat in comfortable silence for a few moments, and you were beginning to go down another existential crisis rabbit hole about finding a significant other you could talk like this to -- someone who would actually listen and maybe even understand you -- but, thankfully, Brian stood up and interrupted your thoughts.

"Need a hug?" he asked.

Without letting yourself think twice, you stood up, as well. You nodded. And when Brian held his arms out, you took a few steps toward him and leaned into his embrace.

"There, there," he murmured as he gently patted your back. "It's all gonna be okay. Jane's not here, but she still knows."

You hummed in reply, closing your eyes tightly as you pressed your forehead against his shoulder.

"Y'know, usually when you're spiraling, I would suggest watching a Jane Austen movie, but... I don't think that would work this time," he said with a soft chuckle.

"No," you agreed, lifting your head to let him see you were smiling -- just barely, but still smiling.

"How about another slice of pizza this time?" he asked, reaching up to delicately tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"Actually... that sounds delicious." But before he could pull away and head toward your kitchen, you asked a question that was nibbling at your brain -- one that you knew only Brian wouldn't get mad at you for. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"What do you mean?!" he scoffed. "I'm your friend, aren't I always nice?"

"No," you answered without hesitation. "You're annoying. Need I remind you that you made me lead book club without telling or reminding --"

"Okay, I get it, I know. I'm trying a thing where I actually validate people's feelings -- or at least, the people I care about. But if you'd rather I be annoying..."

"It'll take some getting used to, but for right now, let's get that last slice of pizza."

And, as soon as Brian left, you would distract yourself from spiraling by getting right back on your dating app and finding a potentially horrible date. Who has time to think about the dreaded but inevitable passage of time when talking to a man whose idea of flirting is to ask you over to his place for a booty call?

Exactly!