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The idea to go hiking had been Kier’s. It had started that morning in the kitchen, sunlight slanting across the counter, Kier standing barefoot in front of the fridge like he was making a life-altering decision instead of staring at yogurt. He’d turned around mid-sip of coffee and said, casually, “We should go outside today.”
Dev, who had been half-awake and scrolling on his phone, had hummed. “We have a balcony.”
“No, like. Outside outside.”
Dev had looked at him over the rim of his mug. Kier had already been smiling in that way that meant he’d decided something and was pretending he hadn’t.
“Seriously?” Dev asked. “We have snacks, right?”
Kier waved a hand vaguely. “Granola bar? Maybe some water?”
Dev raised an eyebrow. “Top-tier planning.”
Kier grinned. “Hey, it’s an adventure. You don’t need everything.”
So now they were here. The trailhead had been busy enough to feel reassuring. Families. Dogs. People who looked like they understood what they were doing. Kier had been unusually close while they walked past everyone, brushing shoulders like it was accidental. Dev hadn’t commented on it. He just adjusted slightly so they stayed aligned, matching Kier’s pace without thinking about it.
Kier snorted. Dev tried not to laugh and failed immediately. It was hard to keep a straight face when Kier smiled like that, quick and unguarded, like he’d forgotten for a second that he was supposed to be right.
They kept walking.
The forest was quiet in that steady mid-morning way, wind moving lazily through the leaves overhead. Sunlight filtered down in broken patches across the ground. It smelled like dirt and something clean. Dev fell into step beside Kier instead of behind him, close enough that their arms brushed every few strides. He told himself it was easier to talk that way.
“Okay,” Dev said after a minute. “Hypothetically. If we’re lost.”
“We’re not lost.”
“If we were.”
Kier sighed. “Then you would panic, and I would save us.”
“Excuse you. I would not panic.”
“You absolutely would.”
Dev stopped walking. “I would handle it maturely.”
Kier stopped too and turned to face him, eyebrows raised in quiet challenge.
Dev crossed his arms. “I would say, ‘Kier, my dear best friend and roommate whom I trust deeply, perhaps we have slightly miscalculated our route.’”
Kier’s mouth twitched. “You would say, ‘We’re going to die out here.’”
“That is slander.”
Dev shoved him lightly. Kier stumbled half a step back and grabbed Dev’s wrist on instinct to steady himself.
They both went still.
It wasn’t new. Just balance. Just reflex. Kier’s hand was warm where it circled Dev’s wrist, thumb pressing briefly into the inside of it before he let go. Dev felt the imprint of it linger longer than it should have.
“C’mon,” Kier said, softer now. “It’s this way.”
Dev nodded once and followed.
The trail split about ten minutes later. Two paths. No sign.
Dev looked at Kier slowly. “Green line, huh?”
Kier pulled out his phone. No service.
Dev folded his arms. “I would like it noted for the record—”
“Don’t.”
“—that I am the voice of reason in this household.”
“We are not lost.”
“We are absolutely lost.”
Kier studied the paths like one of them had personally offended him. Dev watched the way he leaned slightly forward when he was thinking, lips pressed together, stubborn in that quiet way he got when he didn’t want to admit doubt.
“Okay. Left looks more used,” Kier decided.
“Used by what? Deer?”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“Dude we brought a singular granola bar.”
“You said you weren’t hungry.”
“That was before we entered The Hunger Games, but whatever.”
Kier laughed again, louder this time, and Dev felt that familiar, steady warmth settle somewhere low in his chest. It wasn’t dramatic. It never was. It just existed, constant and inconvenient.
“Left,” Kier repeated, already stepping forward.
“Bro, if we die,” Dev said, following anyway, “I’m haunting you.”
“You’d get bored.”
At some point, Kier waved at the trees and said, “Wow. Look at us. Two YouTubers on a hike. Nobody even knows this. We are so niche.”
Dev snorted. “Peak content.”
The path sloped downward and thinned into something less official. Leaves shifted under their shoes. Dev nearly slipped on loose dirt and caught himself.
“You good?” Kier asked immediately, turning back.
“I’m fine.”
“You trip over nothing.”
“That happened once.”
“Twice.”
Dev rolled his eyes, but he noticed the way Kier didn’t resume walking until he was sure Dev had his footing. It was subtle, almost unconscious.
The trail dipped sharply and ended at a narrow stream cutting across their path. They both stared at it.
“This was not on the green line,” Dev said.
“It’s probably seasonal.”
“That’s not really comforting!”
The rocks looked damp. Slightly uneven.
“We can step across,” Kier said.
“Then, you go first.”
“So you can laugh at me?”
“Yes.”
Kier rolled his eyes and stepped onto the first rock. The second wobbled. The third shifted just enough for him to flail in a way that completely ruined his composure.
Dev grabbed the back of his hoodie before he could fall, fingers curling into fabric automatically.
They froze.
“Don’t,” Kier warned.
Dev was already smiling. “Trail expert.”
“I didn’t fall.”
“You absolutely almost did.”
“That doesn’t count.”
Kier made it across the second time and turned, holding out his hand without ceremony. Casual. Expectant.
Dev looked at it for half a second longer than necessary before stepping forward. The first rock shifted under his weight. The water wasn’t deep, but he didn’t feel like dealing with wet socks for the rest of the afternoon.
Halfway across, his balance tipped.
Kier caught his wrist immediately. The grip was firm. Certain. Like it hadn’t even been a question.
They steadied together before letting go.
On dry ground again, Dev glanced at him. Kier looked pleased with himself in that quiet way he got when he was right about something, hair a little more wind-tossed now, cheeks faintly flushed.
“We should’ve turned around,” Dev said.
“And miss this?” Kier gestured vaguely at the stretch of woods ahead.
“This is more woods.”
“Exactly.”
They pushed forward and eventually rejoined a clearly maintained trail.
Dev stopped. “We were lost.”
“We were exploring.”
“That was not intentional.”
“But we fixed it!”
Dev shook his head, but there wasn’t much heat behind it. They fell back into step easily, shoulders brushing again. The faint sound of other hikers drifted back into range.
Kier glanced sideways at him, trying not to smile.
Dev let the quiet settle. The trail was clearer now. The forest lighter. Kier walked carelessly through the path, with Dev following close behind.
By the time they got back to the car, the sun was lower and their single granola bar was long gone. Kier claimed he wasn’t that hungry. Dev didn’t believe him.
On the drive home, Kier’s head tipped against the window before shifting, without comment, to Dev’s shoulder instead.
Dev adjusted slightly so it was more comfortable and kept his eyes on the road.
“You were lost,” he said quietly.
“We were exploring,” Kier murmured, already half-asleep.
Dev glanced at him once, memorizing the shape of the moment, then looked forward again.
“Next weekend,” Kier added faintly, “longer trail.”
Dev didn’t hesitate.
“Next weekend,” he agreed.