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There’s always a painful twinge in Rindo’s gut whenever he sees Fret talking with his other friends.
He can’t explain it. He wouldn’t know where to begin. He doesn’t even remember when it started, but lately, anytime he catches his best friend chatting up the more popular kids in the hallway, he feels his stomach twisting inside out.
It takes him a while to realize that it’s jealousy. He’s jealous of Fret. To be honest, Rindo doesn’t really blame himself. Fret is a social butterfly—he can carry a conversation with just about anyone, regardless of popularity or personality. He’s a chameleon, able to blend in with any and every group of people, and Rindo would be lying if he said he didn’t envy that kind of power.
He was never... great, with people. Not like Fret. Even when he was younger, he was always the shy kid who never spoke up. People talked to him because he could write, and because he was smart, but that didn’t last. His teachers called him talented, and that was nice, but... Rindo didn’t feel like he deserved so much praise. Poetry was just a hobby, how could anyone think it was anything more than that?
Before long, his instructors and peers were expecting so many things from him—good grades, more poems, relationships—and being so socially inept, he just...couldn’t keep up. He broke down in front of his homeroom class one day, and after that, he stopped writing. Fret managed to bring him back to school after he spent a whole week at home, but when he came back, he didn’t talk to people anymore. All of the acquaintances he had made are now strangers. And Fret is the only person who still matters.
Rindo screwed up back then. He knows this. But after everything, it’s not worth the effort to fix it. He’d rather stay in his own world instead of disappointing people—it’s more comfortable like this, anyway.
And yet, he’s still jealous. Jealous of Fret. Fret and his amazing social skills, and his wide circle of friends that doesn’t involve Rindo.
Friends that don’t involve him. Don’t involve him whatsoever. Fret has other friends that don’t involve him. Other worlds where Rindo doesn’t exist, or even matter.
To Rindo, Fret is everything. He’s the only other person who matters. But to Fret, Rindo is only one small piece of his whole world. There are other people who matter. Probably some who matter more than him.
He isn’t the only other person in Fret’s world. And for some reason, that bothers him.
...Why?
It takes Fret asking to cancel their lunch plans to see other friends he hasn’t in a while for Rindo to realize that Fret isn’t the heart of his jealousy. No, the person—people—Rindo is jealous of is Fret’s other friends. His other worlds. Worlds that don’t involve him. He’s jealous because he can’t keep his best friend to himself, because he shares Fret’s precious time with people he doesn’t even know. And maybe that’s a bit selfish, but Rindo doesn’t have anyone else. He’s allowed to be jealous. To be greedy. It’s only natural.
But that isn’t the only revelation that comes from the twinge in his gut. At first, it was only whenever Fret paid attention to other people. But lately, Rindo feels his insides doing somersaults anytime Fret pays attention to him. Him and only him. Sometimes Fret will dedicate an entire day to giving him special treatment, like he’s worth more than gold, and Rindo never knows what to do with the attention.
But he notices that the feeling in his stomach is different than before—no, it’s less like a pang of jealousy and more like butterflies. Nervousness. Excitement. Rindo feels all kinds of euphoric and flustered in the presence of his best friend, and that feels fine, for a while. But then, one day, Fret intertwines their fingers when he takes Rindo’s hand on the walk home from school, and it feels so right, like they were always supposed to fit together like that, and that’s when the puzzle pieces connect.
Rindo is in love with his best friend.