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r/troubleinlove

u/charcoalcat

I (25M) think my best friend (25M) likes me

yeah yeah u might think im being full of myself but i swear i can feel it! like the way he acts around me and stuff like you just have to believe me on this. so now my question is, what do i do if he eventually confesses? idk if i like like him but ugh thinking abt our relationship changing when i reject him kinda sucks yk like he's my best friend

anyways. i'm open to any advice. NO HATE. just trust me on the first part. tnx

thingamajiggle: wow thats a lot of confidence to be saying that not only ure sure he likes u, but ure sure he'll confess, and ure sure ull reject him (also that u don't want ur relationship to change wow)

unregisteredpharmacist: literally TT i mean are you really all that to be talking like this? man I feel sorry for the best friend

charcoalcat: pls I know I sound like a jerk but if you can only put yourself in my shoes you'd also say the things I'm saying. anyways my main point is I don't want to ruin our friendship

excellent-cactus: let's just humour him guys -_- well unfortunately things WILL change IF your friend confesses so I think what you should be preparing for is how youre gna handle that. if you two are really good friends, maybe it'll be awkward in the first few months but he'll move on and you'll be fine

charcoalcat: tnx dude. yeah knowing him at most it'll be awkward but he's not the type to cut off things just bc of it. but a few months…that's a bit long

excellent-cactus: cmon u gotta give him that at least

charcoalcat: ik…

thingamajiggle: okay it's cool that you have the answer and all but I'm still on the are you sure he actually likes you? you keep saying we should trust you but dude this is the internet

charcoalcat: i swear! its a vibe thing I told you you'd have to be in my shoes to know

thingamajiggle: I don't know…sounds to me like you're just idk being delusional?

"Oh my god." Nicholas flings his arms up, exasperated at the sheer disrespect emanating from his phone screen. He should've known not to consult reddit of all places. "They don't get it. They just don't get it."

"Who doesn't get what?" Oh. And he probably shouldn't be doing this in the vicinity of said best friend, the very subject, the one and only, Byun Euijoo.

Nicholas throws a glare Euijoo shrugs off. "You wouldn't get it."

So you see, Nicholas isn't stupid. He didn't like school, frequent visitor of the guidance office, has had more demerits than attendance, yada yada, but when it comes to people, Nicholas is miles from stupid. And when it comes to his best friend, oh he's even farther from being one. He can pick up just fine when Euijoo wants to decline but can't because god bless he says no; he knows the days it's okay to bring him out and eat and when he just wants to order takeout (never mind that they don't even live together); he understands that when they're sharing a room, it has to be on the freezing side because the man runs hot but also he should be swaddled up somehow; he can—you get the gist.

So it goes without saying that Nicholas has noticed. Well, more like, felt. Again, it's in the vibes. Sure he doesn't have concrete evidence yet, but he feels, okay? That's what he does best: feel. About a few months ago he felt a change and then he keeps feeling changes; hence the much needed reddit visit.

Which brings him to now, at Euijoo's on a random Tuesday evening—a takeout night—breaking his fingers typing up defense after defense to save what little of his thinning online repute because his post decided to catch waves a whole two days after. Which is, today. When he's meeting up with Euijoo. Of all days. At the last reply of 'yes i'm sure HE likes me instead', Nicholas puts his phone away, screen down and huffs a little too loudly.

"Clients?" He spares the man a glance, hands out a tissue when he notices sauce by the corner of his lips.

"Nah."

"Maki? Yuma?"

He shakes no for both and points to Euijoo's box—two pieces of chicken and some japchae left. It's best to veer the conversation away. The man has this eerie power of making him talk. Curse that calming voice of his.

"You're not gonna finish that?"

As if to spur him, Euijoo closes the lids on the boxes and begins cleaning up. "I'm full—"

"Juju, again—"

"It's okay." Euijoo flaps a wrist in the air, busying himself with the takeout like Nicholas isn't shooting him daggers. "Don't worry about it. Hey, at least I've got breakfast now so, thanks."

Ugh. This man. Time to switch tactics. "Juju," he starts with a grating whine, the one he knows will catch Euijoo's attention even if for the wrong reasons, "are you really just gonna leave me alone now that you're done eating?" and ends with a pout.

Yup. And there it is, the intended reaction—Euijoo's features, twisted and crumpled. If Nicholas can't make him stay and finish his food then he has to at least get something out of this. A laugh or two would suffice.

"Oh, don't be a baby about this, Nicholas."

"Your baby."

The man's face collapses into all flat lines and blank stares, the joke clearly not up his alley. Uh oh. Anyways, Nicholas shouldn't be joking like that in the first place. He's not the one in like remember?

Euijoo pretends like he heard nothing, rising to stash the takeout boxes into his fridge. "Sleeping here tonight? You know you're still on the couch."

"Ugh. Juju, we've been friends for how long and I still only get the couch?"

"Not true. You get the floor too. What luxury, right?" He chuckles at his own joke that prompts a quirk in Nicholas' lips.

He scarfs down on the remaining of his food, already stuffing empty boxes into a paper bag to throw out before he chows on the last bite. Euijoo watches him move about as he waits for an answer. "Nah, I'll hang for a bit and then head back." As he says so, he sags on the sofa—his bed when he sleeps over—and fishes out his phone.

Euijoo sighs, the tail end dragging to a grumble. "Well, I have a client meeting first thing in the morning. Who even still does face-to-face meetings. Are we not in the twenty-first century or what?" A door clicks open and the man's voice fades into a shut.

"Silly Juju. Won't eat properly, won't rest properly." So can you really fault him for arranging these dinners?

How did it start? It's seamless, really, and he can't seem to place a marker on the timeline. One question led to another and then evolved into routine texts of 'lunch?', 'wanna eat out?', 'are you free this weekend?'. Maybe that's why it's ever more jarring, the shift. The lingering stares and gentler voice and Euijoo's apparent comfort in showing more than one emotion to him (yes, they're mostly annoyance and disgust but it's the contrast that matters, okay?). Because they weren't there one day and then the next morning, they were. He's not dumb. He knows what this is.

And he knows too that Euijoo is a precious friend. He'd hate for that to change.

The screen dims in his idle, effectively blinking him to reality. When he switches his phone back on, a glaring alien against a ridiculous orange background stares at him. It looks equally ridiculous, that big eyes and soulless smile. It's also kind of looks like Euijoo—woah, okay. Back on track. His thumb hovers over the thumbnail and before he can process anything, the app is loading open. Great.

"Whatever. What do they have to say this time?"

mature-squid2436: op is very much a troll

"I'm not a troll damn it!"

singlesweater: bruh im crine y is no one taking this person srsly i was in a similar situation once TT

"Finally!"

ironwolf89: if this is such a problem to you why don't you reject him first? idk drop some hints you'd love to stay as friends and only as friends

"That's…" He can't do that…can he? Okay, now he just feels silly himself. Because if there's anything he knows about Euijoo is that the man would rather put a lock on the things he already keeps bottled. So yeah, he might actually be preparing for a confession that will never happen but…Maybe he should let things be, see how the breeze'll catch, watch—

pm-me-ur-shopliftings: lmaooooo anon def projecting

"Okay, that's it."

—

signs someone likes m—

how to know if best friend is in love—

7 signs someone really likes you—

signals of attraction—

—

Compliments.

After nights spent on visiting love advice sites and even having to resort to clicking links he's convinced installed some type of malware in his computer, there's this one word that seems to latch itself onto all these suggestions, the one that scratches his brain in that burning way, the one that pokes at his pride—compliments.

They compliment you often (more often than others).

People can get a little stingy with words, but when they like someone, they tend to shower that person with compliments—aware or not. A little 'you look good today' here or 'I like your new pants' there; they want to leave a good impression on the person they like. If you notice someone complimenting you a little more often, chances are, they're into you. When…

Okay so, hm, let's see, when was the last time Nicholas received a compliment from the man? Oh, maybe that first day in their shared foreign language elective where they were asked to compliment the student beside them as icebreaker. What did the man say again? Cool fashion…cool sunglasses…? Cool—

No, Euijoo is not stingy with words, that he knows. In fact, words are his forte. There's a reason why his boss loves having him around client meetings, even if that's what he has to do first thing in the morning. (Is also what he wanted to say to the man the other night but Nicholas had other pressing matters to attend to. Yes, it's this. Yes, this is a pressing matter). And no, Euijoo has no problem dishing out compliments as well, that he knows too. So, taking out all cancelable variables…and cross-multiplying…least common denominator…

"Am I the problem?" Pft. That can't be. And anyway, maths has always been more of Euijoo's domain.

"You're always the problem, dude." The dawdling voice comes from Maki who drapes his whole weight onto the arm he slings over Nicholas' shoulder, jostling the camera dangling on the very same side. Nicholas easily shoves him off.

"You know you're paying when this breaks." He inspects his treasure, partly out of genuine concern (cameras are hella expensive in this economy) and partly to make the younger feel bad. Which he probably isn't feeling if the cackle that follows is indicative of anything.

"Anyways, what's the vibe today? Chic? Casual? Boyfriend?"

Paying no mind to the poses Maki runs through, he walks ahead to a spot he was eyeing earlier—a little farther down a mostly empty alleyway, save for a few cats he'll definitely include in the shoot. The sun is high up at this time so the rays peeking through the trees make for the perfect lighting. Couple that with Maki's natural youthful charm, his photos are basically a click away from graphics and layout. God, he's so good at his job. "A little of all three, magazine wanted something 'heart-fluttering'. Go work your magic."

"Oh this face is magic alright."

"Yeah, yeah. Just stand over there and maybe look like you're waiting for someone."

He instructs the younger with more poses; they change location a few times, picks up a cat Maki can pet. Click, pose, click, pose. Soon, he's reviewing the shots as they take a break by some food truck they came across mid-location change.

A phone blocks his view of the LCD screen right as he's about to hit next. He takes it without much complaint because he's cool like that.

"Maybe a little more side profile." He spams shutter and hands back the phone once Maki seems content. Watching the younger scroll through the new set of photos he's probably already editing to post on Instagram, he brims with pride when Maki nods in satisfaction.

"Thanks man. Perks of having a photographer best friend huh."

"So, you would even say… I'm good, right?" Okay, what is it this time, Wang Yixiang. It's easy for him to get immersed in work. It's equally easy for him to pull out from that zone. He's considered it some kind of superpower for so long; it's just not so superpower-ish when his current fixation has something to do with love and his best friend. Euijoo, not Maki. And! Euijoo liking him, not the other way around.

Rightfully so, the younger shoots him a look. "Uh, duh? Why else would I trust you with my portfolio?"

See, Byun Euijoo? Wasn't that easy? So why is it—ugh.

"Hey, does Euijoo ever, like, compliment you?"

Maki's brows furrow deeper and the pause he gives is deliberate. Nicholas can almost see the cogs in his head grating against each other, perhaps sorting through the questions he wants to ask back. Well, he can't put it against the kid; it's a weird question, he gets it.

"Yeah?" Maki settles for an answer instead. Somehow though, Nicholas is sure this'll come back to him one way or another. "Like, just this morning? Sent him a photo of my fit before I got here and he said I looked great."

"Right." And then to himself, "right." So Maki sent a photo of his fit and said he looked— "hey, wait! I send him my fits too and all I get is a thumbs up."

Unfortunately, his crisis is crisis only to himself as Maki nearly busts a lung from laughing. "Is this—is this what you were grumbling about earlier?" Ah, it sure does come back early.

"No, listen. He obviously has no problem telling people they look good, so why—do I—I mean not to toot my own horn but I think I'm pretty good looking."

"Oh my god!" Wow. Just wow. From the reddit replies to his own friend finding his troubles the best form of entertainment on earth apparently, it's just disrespect after disrespect against him. He can barely get a word in as Maki wheezes through his remarks. "I can't believe—you just—"

Frankly speaking, Nicholas doesn't think this is a laughing matter at all. Is it ridiculous to be gathering pieces of evidence for his hypothesis? No. He has to have solid ground to reject Euijoo after all. Is it ridiculous to be airing his business out to people who couldn't give a flying fuck? Maybe. But that doesn't matter. Is it ridiculous to feel, in the slightest, in the smidgest bit, down because he can't get a 'you look good' from Euijoo?…So, you see, when you put it that way…

"My bad, dude. My bad." Maki finally decides he's had his day's worth of laughing, wiping away tears that aren't there and dissolving into a sigh. "He probably thinks you look great."

It's Nicholas' turn to shoot him a look.

"Okay, I know for a fact he thinks you look great."

"Whatever. I don't even care anymore." Lies.

"He's just saving you—" a snort, "from yourself."

"What the hell does that even mean?" But Maki is already collecting himself up, plucking out their trash to dispose and Nicholas is left to scramble after the younger.

—

The evening brings crisp air nipping at his skin but he's long lost care by the third shudder as he squints at the absurd article he left off reading this morning. Not exactly his picture of a dream night, especially with the ramen stalls just a few walks away. It's that damned word.

Compliment.

"'I like your new pants.'? I like your new pants?" And this damned sentence. Something about it offends him in a way. "Does anybody even wanna hear that? Wait…I'd wanna hear that…" So what? Excuse him for minding his fashion.

He's the problem, isn't he? Maybe the internet haters were right. Maybe Euijoo doesn't actually have a thing for him. Maybe—

"I like your new pants."

"Jesus." Nicholas clutches at the camera on his lap—the second time that day he's almost dropped it, such luck—and cranes his neck to eye the intruder. "Were you just behind me the entire time?"

Said intruder has the nerve to giggle and perch himself beside Nicholas. "I did call you out. But you looked really serious." Euijoo attempts a glare only for his features to bounce back into a smile like it can't hold a frown. Despite himself, Nicholas laughs. "So, are those new pants?"

Well, now he kind of wish they were. He's not really into overconsumption though. "Nope. Bought them last year."

"Hm. I take it back then."

"Hey." Nicholas knocks at the man's shoulder before pocketing his phone and fiddling with the camera instead. The chances of Euijoo asking about his little monologue is high if he doesn't distract him. Or maybe he won't ask. Again, he's probably not that interested after all. And anyway, he might as well make productive use of his time like, review his shoots last-minute maybe. Certainly not reread some article off of a sketchy website.

"Can I see?" Euijoo crowds in his space and Nicholas steels. He can't even see the photos himself anymore from the weird angle they've taken but he makes sure to press the 'next' button every five seconds. "Pretty pictures."

"Yeah, yeah. That's Maki for you."

The man retracts after what felt like the longest three minutes of Nicholas' life, humming with a nod. He looks ahead and Nicholas thinks that's the end of it. "Like photos, like photographer?"

It's well into the evening so perhaps it's that. Perhaps it's the long day. Or maybe it's the unhealthy screen time spent on equally unhealthy content that he agrees without much thought and continues to scrutinize the photos. Only when his brain has filtered the words, strung them into a sentence, and registered the implication does he snap to his side.

One. Two. Three. There's no punchline. No take backs. Nicholas coughs a nonexistent lump in his throat. "Uh, thanks, I guess? You too—" Fuck. What a time to bite his tongue. "You look—"

"I know." And then Euijoo's chuckling. Which should be rude. Except, Nicholas doesn't really mind.

'He's just saving you from yourself.' Haha. Funny. He gets it now. Okay, so what if he stumbles through his words and bites his tongue just because Euijoo called him pretty. When you've grown accustomed to thumbs ups and read receipts, it's a pretty valid reaction.

Nicholas deflates in his seat. And then gathers himself. What the fuck was that anyway?

He can feel an easy smile break across his face, tailing right after, a sneer. "Oho, getting confident now I see." And for extra measures, he pokes at Euijoo's side and cheek and arm.

Of course, his hand is smacked away as Euijoo fixes him a look of scorn but that was kind of the point anyway. He can't let the man have the upper hand. Also, Nicholas has this strange penchant for pulling out reactions from him. Yeah. It's mostly that.

But he stops just as soon, shifting his attention to the ramen stand behind them, some sort of peace offering. "Ramen?"

"Nah. Already ate."

"With?"

If he had a penny for every time someone had looked at him like he grew a second head today, he'd have two. It doesn't help that he's only talked to two people as well.

"With myself?" Euijoo says, tone pitching at the end. Nicholas wants to point it out and luck himself with one last teasing for the night but the man hoists himself before he can do so. He ends up watching Euijoo stretch instead. "I gotta go. Sorry for taking your time."

"You weren't though?"

Euijoo waves small, pressing his lips into a line. "Well. See you."

"Yeah, bye."

Nicholas waits until Euijoo's figure disappears into the distance, shrugging to himself when he can no longer see the man and finally deciding to leave.

Hold on. Compliment. 'Like photo, like photographer?'

"Oh my god, I knew it—"

—

He had overlooked a crucial step in his endeavor, Nicholas realizes one unsuspecting afternoon as he shakes his head for the umpteenth time scrutinizing the shots he just took. He was booked for a prenup but he's beginning to question if the marriage was needed rather than wanted with how the pictures are coming to be. Okay, that sounds a little mean. But the sun has been beating down on them and he has gotten, maybe, one good photo of the couple.

Can we get something that resembles a hug?, he wants to say, "let's try a back hug, sir," he says instead. When he peers down on the display, it takes a herculean effort to bite back a sigh.

"Honey," the bride sings out, "oh my god, this is so embarrassing. We're so sorry, Mr. Wang, we'll get it right this time." Well, at least they're self-aware, is what he wants to think if they haven't been saying that since the first few clicks.

"Sorry, we're kinda shy. We're not really that much into physical touch too so…"

Cue: the light bulb.

Of course.

Of course he's going to fail his first attempt at proving his case. Of course extracting a compliment from Euijoo is going to be a high hurdle. Of course people are going to doubt him. Things were just not aligning. Yet. Why rely on dubious websites and spiteful anonymous users on the Internet when he has, get this, his brain!—arguably the most accurate source of all things Euijoo at his disposal.

Nicholas buzzes through a manic rush that evening following his epiphany. Scraping bits and pieces of information from years spent together, anecdotal evidence via chats, and even Instagram posts (last update: July 1, 2024, not the most helpful but it'll do), he crafts his very own handbook.

Ladies and gentlemen, Nicholas presents, Byun Euijoo: A Guide To His Heart.

First thing's first, Euijoo loves love. When they were fresh out of college and sailing through unemployment, the two fell into this strange routine of weekend movie-watching just to let days pass. In most of their sessions, he lets the man pick and they sit through an episode of Crash Landing on You or Twenty-Five Twenty-One or Kimi ni Todoke. Nicholas didn't mind much and seeing Euijoo gush over Kazehaya and Sawako hold hands after twelve episodes was additional entertainment anyway. Something about the youth and their expression of love, apparently.

That's second point: Euijoo loves to express his love. Or, more accurately, he loves to let people feel they're loved. Although, in some paradoxical sense, for someone bursting with fondness, Euijoo's affection is subtle. Gentle? Almost as if you were always meant to receive it but never really as a loud presence. No wonder Nicholas seemed like a fraud—unable to explain how he thinks the man likes him. Because the shift might've been evident but the affection itself settles like warm sun rays.

There's one thing Euijoo is especially good at; the one thing that exemplifies his love; the one thing Nicholas should've started with (why did he ever think buzzfeed.com was a good source) and the conclusion to his handbook: Euijoo's love language is paying attention.

And so, he moves to phase two.

—

The plan is simple really; watch Euijoo closely and tally all the times he either (a) looks Nicholas in the eye while talking, (b) remembers something about him, or (c) notices anything about him.

The plan also starts now, meaning as Nicholas grills meat for their lunch and Euijoo munches away.

"So, notice anything new with me?" God, he really needs to work on his tact.

"Hm?" Or not.

Nicholas brushes a few strands of hair away from his face once. Euijoo blinks. He does it again. Euijoo tilts his head this time. Doing it a third time is just sad so he goes back to flipping a piece of meat. It's overcooked now. "'s nothing."

Right. What can he do? It's not like they're together often for the man to start noticing tiny changes. Besides, there's still the other two—

"Oh! You cut your—" Euijoo stretches an arm out; Nicholas reels. It's purely on instinct but it freezes Euijoo in his movements. Then there's this something that flickers across his face. Then it's gone. Then it must've been Nicholas' imagination. "Sorry. Forgot you don't like your hair being touched. But you cut your hair…I think?"

Oh, well, there you have it. The mention of his haircut and his little quirk has Nicholas almost dancing in his seat. Which he can't have, he'll look a little too excited, so he tries for a nonchalant nod instead. "Yeah. Just felt like it you know."

"Looks nice." He can't look a little too excited damn it. Why did he have to be a sucker for compliments.

He cuts more meat chunks to grill so he has a reason to obscure his face of absolute giddy from Euijoo. The man reads him like a book every time and while Nicholas will not deny that he's one to wear his heart on his sleeve anyway, sometimes, he thinks Euijoo just has superpowers. Wait, scratch that. Now he knows it's because the man likes him.

There's clattering from Euijoo's side of the booth. "Let me grill this time, Nicholas. You've eaten, like what, five cuts?"

What no. This is his medium of distraction. He still has to tally all the times Euijoo looks at him while talking after all.

"Nah. Just sit there and eat." In some sort of defiance, Nicholas places more beef and pork on Euijoo's plate, scooting away the still remaining pieces left to make space. Why does he eat so little anyway?

"Ugh. Whatever. You always do this," he says, petulant tinge to his words.

Nicholas can't help but notice his lower lip jutting out and he can't help even more the chuckle that bubbles from his chest. His friend can be cute sometimes. Which doesn't mean anything, of course. He finds all his friends cute because that's why they are. And he'll never let Euijoo know anyway. Even if he does want to point out how his cheeks puff like a hamster when he chews. Or how his eyes go impossibly wider when he eats a particularly good piece. Has Euijoo always liked perilla more than lettuce? That's new informa—

"Nicholas."

"Yeah?"

"Please stop staring at me." Oh shit. When—why—what? "You're gonna burn good meat. Give me that." The tong is snatched from his hand without much fight. Not like he can put up one anyway because his brain is busy retracing the exact moment he started "staring". He wasn't. Wasn't he?

—

Phase two is off to a…bumpy start. And then, somehow, the bumps evolve into full-blown roadblocks and unfortunately, Nicholas is a professional photographer, not a highway technician and he's not really considering a career change anytime soon. That is to say, there's a new problem and it doesn't seem like something Nicholas can resolve so easily. Okay, calling it a problem is dramatics on his part. It's more of a practical inconvenience on his plans. A little cracked pavement if you will.

They're two grown man. With big boy jobs. And lives of their own.

While lunch outs and dinners are something the two somehow found incorporating in their routine, it's thrice on a good month, five if Nicholas can drag it out, and none if life gets it the way. Which is most of the time.

So, his afternoon goes like this: Nicholas agonizes (again, dramatics) over the reality of their friendship status; his phone lights up with a notification; he pumps his fist like an unc, as what Maki would call it. And just like that, the problem solves itself.

—

"So…," Nicholas starts slow like how his steps are languid because for someone blessed with vertical advantage, Euijoo walks like he has nowhere to be. Which is fantastic on a normal day except today, he has everywhere to be. But eh, who is he to question? He doesn't even mind much. "Why the sudden apartment change?" That's a better question.

Like needle to balloon, Euijoo's shoulder slumps and his leisure steps lag into heavy ones. Nicholas mirrors in solidarity.

"My landlord raised the rent. He already won't fix the elevator and I just found mold growing in my bathroom so it's not even worth it anymore."

"Oh my god, Juju, I've used that bathroom." When he turns to his side, Euijoo's eyes look dead directed at him like this. Unfazed too, Nicholas pokes at his cheek which…well, it doesn't earn him a smile. But they're best friends like that. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Also, never really liked your landlord anyway so, good riddance."

Apartment hunting. Probably not the most ideal setting to enact his plans but Nicholas was never picky with his opportunities. And he has since tweaked bits of the strategy after his first attempt concluded with this weird fuzzy feeling that isn't one of those romance novels like to describe. There's bound to be better results before sundown. He thinks.

Revised phase two is still fairly simple. He's always been a simple man. If Euijoo likes him and his love language is paying attention, then all Nicholas has to do is test how well his best friend knows him. It'll be like playing the world's most boring game of Who Wants To Be A Millionaire except Euijoo doesn't know he's playing and the price money isn't even really a price considering Nicholas plans on rejecting him.

Their first stop is a towering building. They get past the glass doors with a shiver, air-conditioned winds blowing as soon as the automatic doors slide open. It's a little too cold for Nicholas' taste and the crystal chandelier right at the center of the lobby is a little too intimidating.

He decides to ignore all that and channel the six-year-old him who decided he wanted to be an actor and joined theater club.

He 'shivers'. "Ugh, I can never do these high-rise condo."

Either Nicholas has unlocked some hidden acting talent or he just put on the most horrendous play pretend because Euijoo breaks from his concentration, halting to turn around and his gaze stays on Nicholas for a moment. It's not entirely piercing, his eyes are too soft and round for that, but it's a look that has Nicholas wanting to count the glass shards of the chandelier instead.

The man resumes to browsing payment plans with a shrug. "You're not gonna fall off the building, Nicholas. I think after a floor number, the rooms don't have latched windows anymore."

Aha. Bingo. Most people would assume it's heights he's afraid of. That's one tick in the box.

"Yeah, well, you never know." He continues on with his act.

He continues on with his act even as they amble about the second apartment, Euijoo in the bedroom and Nicholas the living room (he still gets sofa apparently). This one is on the modest side, the building itself isn't looming and the city is only a couple minutes of walking. Euijoo had said some time in the past that he would like a simple, quaint home but honestly, you can't take the city out of the man.

Nicholas walks over a small storage area. "This one's nice. It even got this room you could put stuff in." Nice…for him. Let's see if Euijoo picks up on the implication.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, Euijoo materialises beside him. He gives the small room a good look, almost as if taking it into account. Nicholas knows this because he has that pout and he's looking up so his eyes appear rounder. So funny. Has he exhausted his permissible number of poking today yet? Would Euijoo go home pissed at him if he—

"Hm, I don't know. You might like this because you change hobbies every month but this is just extra room to clean for me."

Euijoo leaves him in the dust, just like that, heading for the exit. It's all fine and okay though because that's one more point crossed off.

There's a skip in Nicholas' steps when he trails after the man. "Wait for me, Juju!"

In hindsight, he probably should've dialed down the enthusiasm. All the humming and dancing probably drained what little of energy Euijoo had coming to their meet up. Euijoo's patience puts saints' to shame. But, as it happens, he is human after all.

Last apartment is a little more to Nicholas' preferences—loft style so the common area is spacious, none of that high-rise shenanigans, and right at the heart of the city. Okay, maybe minus the fact that it's a loft apartment; the stairs are always tiny and a hassle to climb in or out of. But who is he to talk? It's not like he's in need of an apartment change here. Oh, but…

"If we were rooming together, I'd put this on the list. It kinda has bits of what we both would want." He toggles the switch a couple times, each flick drowning the room colors of different lighting—bright white, warm yellow, and something in between. "Look, the lights even has that ambient setting that you like."

He waits for a retort, or maybe a click of a tongue.

Neither comes. Only a pause that's a beat too late. It's probably best he stops playing with the lights.

"Uh, sorry—"

"Uhm, actually, it's getting late. We should probably head back."

It is getting late. The loft is too golden from the warm lighting he stopped on and the sunset spilling from the window.

That's understandable. Perfectly so, actually.

And the man probably has another client meeting first thing in the morning. That's why he's such in a hurry, right?

—

Nicholas lies wide awake late into the night. Which isn't new. Nor are the thoughts grinding away his cogs to dust, overheat and rusty. He's been doing a lot of that lately. Which, if he were to be honest, isn't doing him any good. He's a feeling guy, not a thinking guy. Thinking is more of Euijoo's area of expertise. That's another thing, for all the thinking he's been subjecting his brain to, all his thoughts lead to one road. Or guy. Just Euijoo, honestly. And he's seriously considering some…things. Only when it's too late and too quiet and suddenly, entertaining certain possibilities doesn't sound too bad.

And then the sky turns light purple, the sun peeks from the horizon, and that's Nicholas' cue to shake the thoughts off.

Sometimes, they find a way to slither into the crevices of his brain until he catches himself staring at his screen or clicking shutter too long. Most of the time, they don't. Most of the time, he goes on with his days as usual. Most of the time, life is painfully plain and boring.

Not today, though.

Today, Nicholas is whistling a tune on his way to Euijoo's, plastic bag crinkling when he swings his arm. If he's prancing too, well, it's too dark for anyone to see.

Euijoo—workaholic-can't-say-no-agreeable-to-at-fault-Euijoo—finally decided to quit his toxic workplace. And Nicholas, the man's one and only best friend of course, comes with gifts and his presence. Okay, so that's not entirely true. Euijoo invited him and a few others for a small celebration. Wow. That's a lot of new things the man is dipping his toes into. All the more reason to be excited so who cares if he skips a little.

"Juju!" He calls out from behind mahogany doors, knocking for courtesy, but speaks up anyway even if there's no telling the man can hear from inside. "I brought all your favourites. This is like the best decision you—"

The door cracks hasty, revealing a Euijoo who only peers his head from the gap. Nicholas only gets a good look of the man—hair strands sticking to his forehead and a sheen of sweat glazing his face and neck—when he swings the door open, beckoning him to step inside. Somehow, Nicholas forgets what he has to say about snacks or decisions. Must be the savoury something he's only smelling now. Seafood? Shrimps and crabs?

"You're here early." Euijoo pats on his temple before heading back to the kitchen.

Nicholas has no choice but to place the plastic bag on the couch. He can showcase his haul later. Whatever is going on in that pot must be miles more interesting. "What you got going here?"

"I was trying to make hot pot. But…" Sure enough, there's a pleasant-colored broth bubbling when Nicholas leans over. Euijoo adds another orange powder packet, stirring awhile before scooping a spoonful and blowing out the heat. "Here. Try it."

Nicholas brings the spoon closer, grazing gentle at Euijoo's hand. The soup goes down with a kick. Kind of literally because he's hacking his lungs out.

"Oh my god is it bad?" Euijoo offers a glass of water that Nicholas gulps.

"No, no, 's not that," he says in between coughs. Through stinging eyes, he notes on the man's face—all worried lines—and with sheer willpower, forces his coughing down. "It's good, it's good."

Skeptical, it seems, Euijoo spins to cater to the variety of vegetables cluttered atop the marble slab. Although, Nicholas is pretty sure the bok choy Euijoo had just grabbed isn't going to get chopped anytime soon.

"You're just saying that." The man sounds like he's sulking. Nicholas knows he is; it's a little habit Euijoo has, to turn around or hide his face away when he's upset. Is it bad that Nicholas is physically stopping himself from smiling? Hand on mouth and all?

He means to reach for a cabbage and make himself useful but there's knocking on the door that jolts Euijoo to shuffle about again and Nicholas misses his timing.

"Must be Kei and Fuma." Muttering under his breath, he adds, "why're you all so early?"

Just as he suspects, the bok choy is untouched. Nicholas grabs a knife to continue the job. Euijoo probably wouldn't mind, right? That man hates having to ask for help but if he volunteers then it should be alright. Not that Nicholas is any better at cooking. But can't a guy want to help and maybe spend some quality time with his best friend anymore?

"Nicholas." He gets two chops in before Euijoo is rushing to his side and nudging him out. To no avail, unfortunately. All Nicholas has to do is grip the handle tighter. "Sit somewhere else or something. I'll finish this soon, I swear."

"Juju, it's fine—"

"Oh? Nico's here already?"

He whips to the source, nodding and saluting with his free hand at the two guests. Fuma is Euijoo's senior from college so that's how Nicholas knows him. Kei is…he's unsure, quite frankly. The taller just found himself whisked in this little group one day and that's the beginning of that. But no issues. They're good friends to Euijoo and Nicholas is ever grateful for that.

"'Sup. Oh and there's snacks so help yourselves. They should be somewhere there."

"Yay!" Kei practically dives on the sofa once he spots the bag and Fuma shakes his head at this.

In that short exchange, Euijoo manages to steal the knife from him so he returns to the soup instead. "It's good. But you don't even like spicy things and you can't handle seafood."

Euijoo huffs. "I know…but it's something everyone likes. And I wanted to cook for a change. But honestly, if it's trash we can always order."

Oh Euijoo. Oh Euijoo, Euijoo. Gentle soul, even gentler thoughts and acts and words. Best friend of years and counting and Nicholas sometimes still wonders how it's possible for someone like Euijoo to exist. Something stirs within him; he feels it in his stomach. Something that warms his skin. Surely it's the soup. The steam has been assaulting his face after all. It's just a little weird that said soup is making him breathe deeper too.

"Look!" A saran wrapped slab of meat is shoved to his face, followed by a grumble as Euijoo tears the packaging open. "I was supposed to buy the precut ones but I was so out of it…"

He should've stopped the man when he dumped that packet into the broth. Something must've been in it that's making Nicholas do things like sliding a hand down Euijoo's back to cram into his space. His own laughter sounds way too soft even to his own ears.

"C'mon, give me that. Let me do the meat at least." It's his turn to nudge Euijoo out the spot. "You think I forgot about the avocado incident?"

"Oh please, that was one time."

"Juju, you're going to cut your fingers. See!" To drive his point, because he's dramatic like that, Nicholas grabs Euijoo's hand to eye level and tries to ignore it's fit against his own. "Do you really wanna wound these?"

Euijoo snatches his hand back and Nicholas wants to take that as agreement.

Wants to. Except the silence that follows seem to carry interest.

Now Nicholas knows the cardinal kitchen rule for anything is to keep your eyes on the board. And he will, he really will. Except, from his periphery, Euijoo is doing this…thing—twisting his fingers, and tucking hair behind his ear, which, it must be getting hot if the tips are pinkening for some reaso—

"Shit."

"Nichol!"

There's a sharp sting. Somewhere. On some finger, he supposes.

Weird. Weird that he feels the pain, heck the cut is stinging fresh at the very moment, and he sees the tiny rivulets of blood. But, even weirder, that what his brain processes instead are the warm puffs of breathing as Euijoo brings his wounded finger closer to inspect, electricity zapping where skin meets skin. He lets go of it just as soon. Bummer. What?

"How can you say one thing and do the complete opposite."

The cupboards clatter from the man's rummaging. It's seconds to find the medicine kit and another split-second of fumbling ointments and bandaids. Nicholas watches the events unfold in amusement; down to the moment Euijoo lifts his hand oh so carefully.

"Where were you looking? Hold still. Let me just…"

Euijoo's voice fades into the background. Honestly, he should be paying attention to his friend's scolding, it's the respectful thing to do. And he tries. 'Be careful', 'this is why', and some others filter in his ears. It's just that, there's something about this proximity, this contact, of Euijoo's lips a few millimeters away from brushing against his finger because 20/20 vision does not compensate for clumsiness, that steals his senses.

All his other senses except vision and touch apparently.

Because why is he suddenly counting Euijoo's lashes fanning against his cheeks? And, wow, even with a frown, Euijoo's lips still have that natural lift to them—입꼬리, he remembers that's what the man called it. They're glossy today, his lips. They're kind of always dry and chapped but they're glossy today. Lip balm? Since when? It's a little hot in the kitchen; they should've already served the soup. But it's warmer where Euijoo cradles his hand in his own so Nicholas isn't so sure the soup has anything to do with it.

"So sorry to be interrupting your little moment, lovebirds, I just can't help but worry about whatever's in that pot."

Nicholas blinks. Once. A bubble bursts. And then there's harsh boiling, TV show playing in the distance, Fuma cackling, and Euijoo…He has this expression that's alien, that mars the softer slopes of his features—faint traces of a scowl or a glare or a grimace or a something. Something.

"Kei-hyung," Euijoo says.

"Are we having hot pot? Can't wait to taste this!"

And when he heads home, Nicholas will chalk it up to being only a mutual friend to Kei. Nicholas will chalk it up to that why something about the man's timbre or excitement makes him feel like he's missing a piece to a puzzle.

"Euijoo." Fuma calls from the living room and being the host, Euijoo attends to him, slipping past Nicholas without so much as a glance. "Can I close your windows?"

Oh. It's a little cold, huh.

—

Euijoo hosting means movies are paramount to any other activities they could do. It's set in stone. What comes after the first commandment is, of course, second: the movie must be romance.

Not that anyone minds though as they find themselves in this comfortable arrangement—Fuma draped across the chaise lounge side of the sofa, snacking on some chips he had set on the floor; Kei and Euijoo occupying the rest of the space meanwhile Nicholas solos the bean bag chair off the side. The hot pot they managed to salvage sits on top of the coffee table where they occasionally scoop themselves a portion. Euijoo had belatedly realized it's a work night for the others and they can't stay for dinner. So they compromise.

"You see, I don't get this. They clearly like each other. Why is no one confessing?" Kei brandishes a finger towards the TV as if the poor bundle of wires personally offended him. He's been questioning the characters' decisions since the fifteen-minute mark.

"It's the slow burn, hyung, the slow burn." On the other hand, Euijoo entertains each comment with equal fervor.

"The only thing burning is my tongue."

"Sorry, Fuma. It tasted bland at first so I added another packet."

Despite his remark, Fuma lifts himself from the comfort of the sofa to fill his empty bowl. "No worries. I'll still eat it for you, darling."

Euijoo flashes a smile for an answer before shifting his attention back to the movie.

The bowl on Nicholas' lap kind of weighs now although it's plastic. He already had two full servings but he thinks a third is manageable.

"Okay and of course he sees her talking to another guy now of all times. When he finally decided to confess. Of course!"

Kei is animated when he was throws his arms up and for once, Nicholas is on his side. "I'm with you on this…one…"

Wind chimes. Twinkling like wind chimes, that's how he'd describe it, the laughter that spills from Euijoo—so light he might as well have intended to keep it to himself. But Nicholas hears it and it seizes whatever agreement he prepared anyway, lodged in his throat he has to swallow. But…it's a nice sound. It's a really nice sound.

"Nicholas." The voice startles him out of his daze. Euijoo's brows are raised and his eyes a fraction wider so Nicholas knows he must've been talking for a while now. Thankfully, the man speaks before he gets to clarify. "You were saying something earlier?"

Yeah. About Kei or the movie—it's whatever now. He tends to forget unimportant details and definitely not because of something else.

He shoots a look back, putting on his best confused face. If he's squinting a little too much, he'll blame it on the blue light. "Hm? I don't think so?"

Euijoo's stare lingers, expression creasing into suspicion by the second. But Kei says something about the soundtrack this time and Fuma chides in and Euijoo feels more enthused than ever to defend the choice of music.

Nicholas has nothing to say about the music though.

Nor does he have anything to say about tonight.

No matter how odd he feels about it.

Or about Euijoo—

—

Nicholas is sitting on a fence.

The fence comes in the form of an obnoxious header slapped against white background, with images still bearing their watermarks like the person in charge couldn't be bothered to purchase—it's another website. It's—the fence is a bad decision in the form of a website. Boo. Tomatoes, tomatoes.

Yes, okay, yes. Sketchy websites and articles have no place in his plans now, especially with his very own, handcrafted Euijoo Encyclopedia, but he came across a good point. A turning point even.

Let's just say, he's run into some confusing…road signs. And that there's a need to recalibrate using tried-and-tested methods.

They will be jealous.

Jealousy is one of the few emotions people can't hide or control even if they try to. You can see it in the way they freeze up when you're with other people or look at you when you're talking to someone else. Bonus if this someone else is a potential rival for your affection—

Right. Remind him again why he's back to reading these articles?

Needless to say, he's on a mission. His final one perhaps. This one point, Nicholas figures, will bring down the curtain. In retrospect, it's kind of ridiculous how seriously he's taking matters into his own hands. For fuck's sake, he's Nicholas—guy who joined countless clubs as a child just because, took up breaking and battling just because he could be good at it, flew to another country without knowing a single lick of Korean just because he wanted to expand his horizons. Just. Because. Of all that he's been through, this thing with Euijoo, it's the least he can control. He's left life up to fate thus far, why the change of heart?

But, well, those questions are for the him of another time. Or day. Maybe even universe if everything burns to its core and he's left to store the ashes as memento.

For now, he fiddles with the ring on his index finger, glancing at his watch while he's at it. Nine minutes past one. Euijoo had replied to his message on the dot so those glass-paned revolving doors should reveal him anytime soon.

"Hey." As if some entity had heard his woes, Euijoo jogs up to him a second after. "Why're you here? I'm not sure if I can do lunch today—"

"Oh, no, nah. I'm not…Just wanted to say I probably can't make it to dinner plans next week?" The rise in intonation might sound natural to a passerby, maybe even to Euijoo himself. He hopes it does; his smile is starting to sore a little.

Euijoo's smile is relaxed, in contrast. "Yeah, that's cool. New projects?"

"It's—I've got a date."

That's it, right? He should be seeing those 'signs'—freezing up or eyes hardening or whatever else the article said.

Nicholas racks his brain for any database of what a 'jealous Euijoo' might look like. Does he go silent? No, he's a little more whiny than he lets on though. Ugh, but if…if there's nothing to be jealous about then, it's probably exactly this: a stare that feels a bit distant, a smile that, for some odd reason, Nicholas' unsure about receiving. Funny that he's rehearsed this one line to pieces. But maybe it precisely because of that, that his mind is sheet white.

"Uh, so yeah. Kind of short notice, 'cus we just started talking too like last week or something. He's—he's cute and you know, my type and we just kinda clicked so…But we're starting slow. Honestly we're just having coffee next week and we'll see from there—"

A ping! guillotines his rambling.

"Ah. Working lunch. These things have got to be illegal." Euijoo shoves his phone back to his pocket, closed-lip smile offered to Nicholas. "Anyway, I have to go."

A greeting sits at the back of his throat; a little confused, a little dazed. The most Nicholas musters is a timid wave towards Euijoo's retreating back. He only snaps out of it when the man pivots sharp.

"Have fun, Nicholas." Another smile. "On your date, I mean."

—

The rays that slice through Nicholas' blinds sear his bare skin and though muted, the cars honking incessant from under his apartment tells him he should've abandoned the comfort of his bed hours ago. Groaning, he sweeps at the emptiness for his phone. Saturday. 'Next week' has come too soon.

His phone bounces on the mattress, Nicholas sighing as it falls with a thud. There's no rush actually. And he can burrow deeper into his comforter for the entirety of the day if wishes so. He'd zoomed his work to completion this week and with a non-existent 'date' he doesn't need to prepare for, the morning (afternoon, actually) is for him to sleep through. He loves sleeping. He loves having his time. Also, maybe, he's trying to distract himself from a certain someone, some…situation? So off to dreamland he goes.

...Nevermind. He's far too awake now.

Rubbing sleep away from his eyes, the photos plastered on his wall sharpens into sight. Now what could he possibly do with so much time. It's been a while since he's taken photos for the fun of it. Or he can always go shopping; Chrome Hearts released a new line of accessories, apparently. Just walking in the park sounds good too.

His hands find his phone again, ready to shoot a message to anyone available. Scrolling through his contacts, he locks in on his first target.

"Maki…wanna…hang today…"

The reply is immediate. Can't dude. Meeting with some reps.

"Hm. Oh well." He texts a quick 'show 'em what you got' before scrolling further down his list. "Yuma should be free. What's he been up to anyway?"

working on a new song

if u wanna drop by my studio feel free

Yuma's studio is in a whole different city and he's got all the time, sure, but not all the energy. Visiting Yuma will have to wait.

He parses through the rest of his options with no success; everyone apparently got something going on in their lives. Good for them, truthfully. And anyways, maturing comes with learning to enjoy your time alone. Something he can learn from Euijoo. That man solo travels like a pro. Speaking of…

"Nah. What's the point of cancelling then." And frankly, Nicholas would like to build a time machine, go back to a week earlier, and knock some sense to his past self. What on earth got him thinking Euijoo would be jealous anyway.

He skips over the man's name, the action landing him to Fuma's contact instead. "Eh, might as well."

Fuma's reply takes longer to pop up than the others. Figures. They're only mutual friends after all; their texts so far only consisting of Nicholas asking the older for corporate tips. But, who knows, maybe this is the moment they hit it off.

I might be able to tonight?

I'm helping Euijoo move so my hands are full right now

literally lol

Scratch that. What's happening.

The bed rebounds from his springing up. Despite all his talk earlier, Nicholas taps open his chat with Euijoo, clicking in and out to see if he had missed a text about moving. His chat window reflects the same recent message—an 'ok' emoji from Nicholas as reply to Euijoo telling him he'll be out his office in a few minutes. Last week.

He goes back to Fuma.

wait he's moving?

where to?

[shared location]

pretty nice place

Nicholas doesn't recognize the address. Euijoo must've found a different apartment after their hunting that day. It's okay, it's still within the city. Surveying closer, the area is only a thirty-minute drive from his own.

The fact prompts him to his feet and it fuels him to a haste until he's dressed.

Guess he knows now what he'll be doing for the rest of the day.

—

There's a nagging voice whispering from some tucked corner of his mind that Nicholas refuses to entertain. It silences when Euijoo emerges from behind the door—surprise coloring his face and he looks back once, probably to where Fuma must be rustling about, then back at him. Nicholas can only offer a smile he hopes isn't crooked.

"Hey."

"Nicholas…?" The uncertainty in his tone, the expression, it all makes Nicholas dig his hands into his pockets. He's clearly crashing. And he wants to believe Euijoo is merely confused and not, god please not, troubled by his unannounced visit. "I—what—don't you have a date?"

"Date, yeah. Yeah, I had. This morning." He really wants to build that time machine. "Uh, anyway, I didn't know you were moving."

"Yeah, just today." Euijoo turns over his shoulder, scanning the boxes cluttered all over the room. "Had to ask Fuma for help 'cuz I can't trust movers."

"Well, I'm free. If you need more hands."

"What? No, it's okay. I don't want to bother you—"

"Juju, can I help?" Softer this time, "please?"

Euijoo holds a look. And Nicholas has never had a problem with eye contact. But something about the man's gaze, tender along the curvature and yet, miles away all the same, rouses a rock on his heels. Just to soothe the nerves that aren't supposed to be there in the first place.

"Euijoo? Oh, Nico?"

The drawled out voice belongs to Fuma, cropping up from behind Euijoo's shoulder and spurring the man to turn his head. Nicholas starts tapping with his foot now. Weird. His composure is practically immaculate. Right now though, he just wants to get inside and maybe start moving some boxes.

As if reading his thoughts, Euijoo beckons at him. "Alright, since you asked." His tone is brighter now, so is his smile. Nicholas feels a sheepish grin stretching across his lips.

He invites himself inside at Euijoo's motioning, nodding towards Fuma when the man comes into full view. Once welcomed, he lets his eyes wander around. The new apartment is a little smaller than Euijoo's previous, no, cozy is more appropriate. Homey, even. Which is strange seeing as, other than some kitchen appliances, there are only boxes across the floor. It must Euijoo; he always had a way to making any space feel warm.

"Well," Euijoo claps once, "now that there's three of us, we should be finishing sooner. Which is good because I was seriously planning to hold Fuma hostage until dinner." He giggles at his own remark.

Something the older returns with a poke to his side. "Hey. You were going to pay at least, right?"

When Euijoo doesn't swat the hand away, Nicholas coughs into a fist. "So, where are the boxes?"

"Oh! They're downstairs. Wait, let me—"

"It's okay, I'll do it. All of them are yours?" He does recall spotting a few on his way up here.

"Yeah." Euijoo crosses the room, careful of some items already out of their boxes. "I'll just take these plates out then I'll head down too. We don't wanna be breaking things on my first day here."

"Kind of sounds like bad luck," he says, chuckling at the instant pout it evokes.

"Don't say that."

He barely gets a foot out the door when Fuma calls from where he's stood in the living room. "Careful going up, Nico. The stairs are kinda weird."

"Don't worry." He bangs on his chest twice. "This bad boy is tough. I was only hospitalised once in my life. Ever. And I sped run my recovery."

Clang. Nicholas whips to the clattering sound. He finds Euijoo already crouched and picking up a ramen pot, abashed smile on his face. From the corner of his eyes, Fuma is treading across the room. He means to walk over as well, it's just kind of a bit of an overkill for three grown man to clamor over one pot. But…it's not really the pot he wants to check.

"You okay?" Fuma asks.

"Yeah. Fingers slipped, is all."

A ramen pot fell, he thinks. So there's absolutely no need for all the touching and patting Fuma is doing. If anything, the older should be checking on the pot instead. Why is his hand on Euijoo's arm?

"Nico, weren't you gonna get the boxes?" Right. The boxes. He was about to, thank you very much. "I'll follow in a while. Euijoo wanted me to check on the pipes. Man he's working me to the bone."

Nicholas gives a vague hum of an answer, not really enthusiastic to know about what else Euijoo decided to rely on Fuma for, bounding down flights of stairs before his brain can conjure some nonsense. Or conjure nothing, that's possible too. He's just a little muddle-headed today; he's always been more active in the evenings anyway. Curse of a night owl. Or something.

He climbs up after retrieving a medium-sized box, wary of his steps remembering what Fuma had told him. The stairs are kinda of weird. They're steep and Nicholas is pretty sure one of the step is taller than the rest.

"Damn. I think one of the…" The words wilt on his tongue.

Here's the thing, Nicholas may or may not have a severe case of FOMO. Had. He likes to think he's outgrown that pubescent phase and learned to take missing out as part of life.

Or so he thought.

Because some time in the process of navigating the stairs, Euijoo and Fuma had teleported to the living room, by the window specifically, where Euijoo is behind the curtains for some reason, fluttering the cloth all the while chuckling at nothing in particular. Fuma says something, Nicholas can't quite catch what it might be—they're speaking in whispers—but it draws a cackle from Euijoo. He finds that he doesn't like that at all. Which is weird because he thinks Euijoo's laugh is a pleasant sound. Sure, he wants in on the fun. But somehow, the stuffy feeling that settles heavy in the pit of his stomach tells him it can't just be FOMO.

He sheds away the thoughts. There's no use giving himself headache like this; he's here to help—

Too close. Fuma bridges their distance just a tad, bunching at two sides of the curtains and bringing them together so Euijoo is sandwiched, just his round head popping out. Any other day, this would've been a good laugh. Any other day.

Standing by the entrance mute and unmoving is starting to make him feel pathetic. Not to mention, he didn't really ask for a VIP seat to the Fuma and Euijoo Show and his mind is wandering to uncharted waters now.

So, pulling the first half-baked though he can muster, he blurts, "wow. Nice shoe rack."

Two set of eyes land on him and then to the entryway. There's no shoe rack. He cringes inwardly. "I mean, it'd be nice if there was a shoe rack."

Euijoo steps out from where he's bundled with the curtains, inspecting the empty space beside Nicholas with a hand under his chin. He feels a wee bit bad that his friend is seriously considering his poor excuse of a comment.

"Hm, I could use a shoe rack. Wait," perking up, he turns to Nicholas. "I think I have something like a shoe rack. It's still downstairs, I think."

Nicholas trains his gaze on the man, following with his eyes the way he hurries down. It's all to ignore the holes boring his back from Fuma's staring. For whatever reason the older is staring, he doesn't want to know. "Wait, Juju."

One way or another, the three end up flocked in the lobby, somehow strategizing which boxes to carry and who will carry which. Despite his compelling speech about having recently hit the gym, Euijoo goes back inside the apartment with two decently loaded boxes. Fuma and Nicholas each have a heavier box they place down with a grunt.

"I wish I was as muscular as you two. Or at least not have the stamina of a sixty-year-old."

"Really? I actually think you have pretty good stamina, Juju." Euijoo's eyes twinkle, a minute thing, but Nicholas is familiar with the way the man revels in praise.

And perhaps, to indulge him further, Fuma tacks on, "yeah and you look good like this. You're naturally lean so this much muscles is already good."

Friendly touch. That's what he tells himself. Friends touch after all. And Fuma and Euijoo are friends. But god what is it? What is it with them? Nicholas can't help his eyes flickering to the hand squeezing at Euijoo's biceps. It follows Fuma trailing down to catch Euijoo's wrist, and notes, albeit begrudging, how delicate they look clasped around the older's fingers like that. That's unfair. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn't actually get to touch Euijoo much; the man swatting his hand away before it can even land on his skin. Wait. Hold on. Why isn't Euijoo brushing Fuma off? And why, for the love of god, can't he take his eyes off?

Still tracking the older's movements, Fuma is reaching for Euijoo's waist this time. For whatever fucking reason. Before his mind can process anything, Nicholas lunges to grip solid at Fuma's shoulder.

"There's a big box downstairs. I think we both should bring it up here." There's hardness tracing along the edges of his words. He surprises himself but he hopes it surprises Fuma more.

If it does, the older is a master at masking expressions—casual smile sitting coolly on his face as he finally drops his hands. "Let's go then."

Maybe he shouldn't have done all that, whatever that was earlier. The walk back to the lobby is freighted with silence and the air torpid, the sound of their shoes scraping against tiled flooring filling the quiet. Although, oddly enough, Nicholas has no regrets.

"Sorry." Fuma speaks up first, the single word coming as a surprise to him.

"Uh, for what?"

"For teasing you two." The glare carving Nicholas' features morphs into brows knitting as he looks Fuma through squinted eyes. He must look too lost if the man lets out a single laugh. "I was just having my fun. He's yours."

He can be quite slow on the uptake at times, he'll admit that. For this one though…wait, is that what it seemed? "What—oh. Oh, no, no. I don't like him—it's not like that? I mean—"

"No? Great. He's mine then."

'He's mine'. The phrase echoes in his head, each echo louder than the previous and bringing a rigid twinge to his chest steadily. Go ahead, it's so easy to say. Two words. There should be no issue after all. It's not like Euijoo's his in any form or way. If his best friend wants a fit man who can move boxes and whatever else Fuma can do, then…

"…Sure, go ahe—"

A booming laughter erupts, Fuma throwing his head back like there's a joke Nicholas is not in on. He takes offense in that.

"Sorry, sorry. I should stop. I'm not gonna hear the end of it from Kei." Fuma approaches him, patting his shoulder—a stark difference from the way Nicholas had gripped his earlier. He feels a little bad now. "I brought all the heavy ones up already, so…" the older tapers off, scanning the floor as he does so.

Nicholas' eyes drift where Fuma has his head turned to and oh god. On the floor are small boxes, some with labels like 'toiletries' and 'books'. Fuma knew all along there's nothing heavy left to carry. Nicholas wants to shrink on himself.

—

The grand conclusion to his month-long research comes in three parts:

1. He's an idiot.

Okay, fine. When it comes to his life and self, Nicholas hates it the most when people act like they can tell him what to do. Smile a little, be more practical with your career choices, dress simpler. Yada, yada. His principle is simple: there's only so much you can control in this impermanence, his life is his. So can you really blame him? Can you really blame him for refusing to believe what a bunch of internet nobodies has been telling him?

2. Euijoo might not actually like him after all.

In his defense, the man is just too kind and soft-hearted for his own good. It's easy to mistake his perpetual smiling face as something more if you're a frequent recipient of it. And don't get him started with the looking out for others and showering compliments and remembering even the most mundane of details after mentioning it once. But Euijoo's compliments to him are a once in a blue moon occurrence. And he doesn't get jealous. And really, Nicholas is probably just a good friend to him.

3. He likes Euijoo.

That's right. The very thing he was trying to disprove, what truly started it all, boomerangs to him and only him. And it came slow, like how the horizon embraces the afternoon sun. He was watching the very same sun too, on his way back from Euijoo's and no matter how much he focused on the street, a memory replays itself uninvited. Fuma and Euijoo looked good together. Too good. Euijoo looked happy. Too happy. He figures he should be too, after all, when was the last time Euijoo had a significant someone? Or liked anyone for that matter. The man who loves to love should experience love more than anyone else, right? But, see—and god does he feel horrible for this—Nicholas just can't find it in him to feel anything remotely close. Not if the thought of Fuma's hands on Euijoo has him wanting to yank them away. Not if the image of Euijoo laughing his heart out because of someone else is burned at the back of his eyes. And by the time he had shut the door behind him, it clicked.

He kind of, maybe, slightly, wants to be that significant someone.

The realization brings him nose-buried on his phone, messages sent back and forth with Euijoo. Which is nothing special, really. Except he's kicking his feet in the air at every other reply and there's some rolling action sprinkled here and there too.

thanks for helping out again

and sorry for taking your time

you didn't have to

This is the third time the man has said the same thing since he first shot him a text that evening. Nicholas chews on his bottom lip, thinking and thinking and—ah fuck it.

did you not want me there?

'Did you want it to be just you and Fuma?' honestly is too much. Even if his fingers itch to type out the exact question.

???

well you were less annoying than usual

so ig thats very welcome

hehe

"'Hehe'? 'Hehe'? Juju, I'm losing my mind here." And yet his cheeks lift for the umpteenth time since opening his chat box with the man.

Spontaneous. That's what they all call him. So it must be spontaneity when his hands hasten across the screen, bated-breath when he hits send.

are you free next weekend?

—

Nicholas clicks open his front camera, smoothing out a hair strand that isn't the slightest millimeter out of place. With a click of his tongue, he jams his phone away to fiddle with a rectangular something this time. It's a digicam he found the night before, stowed away in his closet as he was puzzling over his outfit for today. He picks at the peeling decal framing the screen, wondering if this bit is too much? If anything about this is too much. It's okay, he tells himself, it's okay; they're just friends hanging out anyway.

The screams of teens and adults alike play in the background. Whatever absurd rides those people decided to subject themselves to, he's not so interested. What's he's interested in though, is if whether or not the amusement park is the right choice for this. It should be, right? They used to go here, when they had too much and too little restraint. Brings back memories. And besides, they're just friends hanging out anyway.

"Boo." Nicholas nearly drops the camera and he pockets it before anything else happens. Euijoo comes into view, chuckling to himself at having caught him off guard.

Newfound crush or not, some things should stay the same, like how Nicholas can't let Euijoo have the upper hand. So he goes for his sides, tickling and relishing at the fits of laughter it pulls from the man.

"Nicholas, stop."

He does as he's told; kind of have always been weak to the man, he's noticing now. "You're late." He retorts still. Can't make it obvious.

"Am I? I'm right on time though…?"

And he's fumbling already. It flew out of his mind, that he decided to come a whole twenty minutes earlier for the sake of his raging nerves. Whatever. He'll blame it on the man sneaking up on him. And how snug he looks in his knit sweater. And how his hair is falling over his eyes, longer now that he has no need to maintain them. And how he wants to reach a hand out and maybe brush away a few strands; they're kind of obscuring Euijoo's round eyes—

"So, what's the plan today?" Said eyes stare into him, a shine dancing across (which might honestly be the morning sun high up in the sky at this time).

There's no plan, he wants to say. They've always been the type to fly by the seat of their pants. But a stand catches his eye, just a few walks from behind Euijoo—target papers in place and stuffed animals decorating the booth, the prizes, most likely.

He grins at Euijoo, exaggerated wiggle of his eyebrows. The man turns and when he faces Nicholas again, there's a smug smile on his face.

"Really? You do know what division I was in my military service right?"

"Oh, boohoo, Juju. That was like, six years ago."

"I still definitely got it, I'm telling you."

Euijoo rarely gets smug but, damn, when he does, there's a good reason for it. Just like that, it's over too soon. The guy manning the booth gives him his paper. Not bad. He looks over to Euijoo. What the fuck.

"I mean, I did tell you." His paper boasts a clean hole, dead center.

"Damn, Juju, you couldn't have—I don't know—missed a few shots at least?"

A smile pinched his cheeks, soft laughter following. "Then you wouldn't have liked that."

Nicholas open his mouth, retaliation at the tip of his tongue when Euijoo deposits something onto his hands. Looking down, a small orange fish stuffed toy is staring back at him. He squeezes it once. It's kinda cute.

"You can have it, you like cute things," Euijoo says, already moving forward while Nicholas is rooted where he left him.

When he falls into stride with the man, he doesn't bother with the blinding grin plastered on his face. "Juju! Let's do basketball next."

"Ugh, you just want to do something you're good at."

"What. No? Not at all." And truthfully, that's not the case. Although he sings his words and it's probably what it sounds like to the man. But it's okay, he'll see soon.

The hoops are indeed a walk in the park, the ball a better fit in his hands than the gun. And also this time, Euijoo does miss a few shots while Nicholas is a beast at shooting balls apparently. The timer counts down and he turns to Euijoo with a scoff. 72-68. Okay, maybe he did want to do something he's good at.

"Close." He nudges at the man who only rolls his eyes.

While Euijoo mutters away, the person-in-charge points to the small section of keychain plushies on display. This is what he was aiming for. He examines the variety; there's not a lot, but he likes to give things like these a thought. Something to go with the fish…something to go…A small black plush cat calls out to him. It's the only one of it's kind too so he takes that as a sign.

Euijoo has his back turned, scanning the expanse of the park. It's a good thing because a wave of shyness that Nicholas isn't familiar with washes over him, forcing a cough to draw the man's attention.

"Here." He thrusts a hand out, keychain dangling in front of Euijoo. He goes cross-eyed trying to get a look at it. Nicholas would laugh at how silly he is if his hands isn't clammy for some reason.

And with how long it's taking Euijoo to say something, his clammy hands are ready to chuck the keychain into his pocket, a 'just kidding' prepared. He almost does so but Euijoo's fingers brush against his and he's cupping the black cat the next second.

His voice is as gentle as his touch when he says, "I didn't know we were doing exchange gifts today. Is it Christmas?"

God he wishes they'd be together by Christmas. What?

"Uh, well, you know, an eye for an eye…or something…"

"Are you really reciting Hammurabi's Code as you hand me a gift?"

"Ugh, Juju. Just take it. Do you like it?"

He must be imagining it, the way Euijoo's features soften. With his already rounded lines all over, the chances are it's nothing. But he likes to think the tender curve of his lips may mean something.

"Thank you, Nicholas."

"Yeah, uhm, of course."

Nicholas files it as figment of his imagination as whatever softness and gentleness fizzes when Euijoo dares him to ride the rollercoaster with him. And then the giant boat thing. And then he barely escapes the dropping thing.

He sends Euijoo a faux-glare as he skips over to him, happiness practically radiating off of his skin with the way he's even humming a melody. "You should've tried that one." The glare isn't so faux anymore.

"Alright, that's it." The railing he's leaned against rattles from pushing himself off. "We're doing teacups next."

Euijoo is grumbling now and it's his turn to smile in triumph. "Juju, you love the teacups."

"I will actually puke on you."

"Ew, that's so gross."

But the two fall into a fit of laughter as they squeeze themselves into the cups. They must appear ridiculous like this, two grown men, each with towering heights (yes, him included, Euijoo is just taller), long limbs crammed and folded in all the wrong ways. They manage to settle in, pausing to check on the other. Upon seeing the absurd sight, another round of cackling breaks out.

"Nicholas, this is so—we look—" Euijoo reddens as he stifles his laughter behind a hand that does nothing.

Nicholas himself has long abandoned trying to hold back, full on shoulders shaking and doubling over. Still, when the ride rings its signal, he gathers what little strength he has to turn the wheel.

"Juju, don't slack off now."

Euijoo grips on the handle, wheezing still so his hold is as good as nonexistent. "Wait. How—are you already turning this."

"I think you're just making excuses."

"Hey, don't try me."

For how much he was grumbling and laughing about, the cup picks up speed as soon as Euijoo drops those words. Nicholas mirrors, steering the wheel with as much eagerness. As the cup accelerates, the spinning flings Euijoo to his side, bringing a warmth to his skin despite the breeze blowing. He twists his neck, and there, just a few inches away, is Euijoo. It's the closest they've been. He's still laughing, blissfully unaware of what he does to him. Nicholas' heart has been thrashing out of his chest from the looping rides and swinging boats. But from this? Yeah, he can do this all day.

It's over too soon, both the teacups and Euijoo sticking close to him. And while the latter is unfortunate, the way they tumble out the pastel cups, bumping shoulders along the way and Nicholas catching Euijoo as he trips on air, makes up for it.

The man jumps at the touch, reeling and steadying himself although there's still a wobble on his heels. "Uh, so…what's next?"

"How about…" Nicholas eyes skate over the stalls before fixing on a pink and white ice cream stand, "wanna get ice cream?"

Euijoo's face scrunches. "Was the goal for today to forget our age?" But he's already a few steps ahead of Nicholas.

"Don't like it?" He means to add his usual teasing flare, even goes for a nudge, but he misses and his voice trembles in an unfamiliar way.

"Nicholas," Euijoo says, firm yet tender still. Such a weird combination. But Nicholas can't focus on that now; it kind of sounds like that one word, his name alone, is meant to pack something more—an appeasement or reassurance—something that he's meant to know. But that's the thing. This damned nerves he hasn't been able to rid himself of consumes his reasoning. All he knows is he really really hopes Euijoo likes it.

And Euijoo, Euijoo with his love language of paying attention, dissolves those nerves. "I wouldn't it be here in the first place if I didn't "like it", right?"

"Excuse me, sirs, but there are other people in line."

Shoot. Right. Ice cream.

They end up getting flavours Nicholas thinks no one has heard of. And it's not because he was busy staring at Euijoo's lip corners. No. Well, for a moment, yes. But even after having pulled himself together, the dizzying flavour names was enough to put him back in that unusual stutter. Maybe they are getting old.

"Perfect. I was really craving for Raging Tidal Crescendo." Euijoo makes it a point to hum louder.

Already feeling a laughter bubbling, Nicholas chides in. "How did they know my favourite was Starry Nova Blast."

The sky, orange and pink marbling across it, is breathtaking from where they're sat on a bench overlooking a lake.

"Remember that time I bought ice cream and you ate the flavour I wanted." He recalls, just for the fun of it. He doesn't know where it's coming from, this urge to reminisce. It feels right somehow—the park, the sunset, the ridiculous ice creams…Euijoo. Cliche or whatever, he gets those movies now.

"Hey, I did tell you to get what you want first." Even the man's single scoff feels right at this moment.

A comfortable silence blankets over them.

If you warned the Nicholas of over a month ago that he's on his way to his most convoluted phase of his life yet—nights upon nights of surfing the internet for tips to devise this mess of a master plan just to prove he's not in love with his best friend—he'd flick a wrist and brush you off. Two things: one, he doesn't like being told what to do and two, he doesn't plan, he goes with the flow. Yet here he is—park, sunset, ridiculous ice creams, and Euijoo. Very much in love. All because of a plan that went wrong in all the right ways.

In one of those nights, he had asked himself, 'why the change of heart?' Try as he might, his brain couldn't piece together anything then. But it should've been the easiest thing to answer. See, Euijoo isn't a 'just because'. And perhaps, a month-long of serious dedication, of being thought carefully of is what he deserves.

So, yeah. Maybe, Nicholas wouldn't want the warning anyway. Regardless if the conclusion has veered far, far away from the original point. Or maybe it's not that far off? Falling in love with his best friend feels like the most natural course of event after all.

Anyway. This is the part where he turns to his side to watch Euijoo watch the sunset, so the man can say 'beautiful' and he'll reply with a 'yeah'—

Euijoo is already looking at him. And he makes no move to look away. And Nicholas feels like he should look away instead but the orange and pink is tinting Euijoo's face warm and pretty and now he's fighting the urge to call him beautiful.

Nicholas opens his mouth, figures he has absolutely nothing to say, and snaps his jaw shut.

Euijoo, perhaps accustomed to weirder shenanigans Nicholas has done, only holds up the cat plush keychain and stretches his arm closer. A slow grin breaks across his lips, eyes half-moons and Nicholas wonders if he should worry about losing the ability to speak whenever the man so much as breathes.

"Looks like you. I'm gonna name it Cola. 'Cuz it looks like cola. And it's from your name, 'Nicholas'. Do you like cola? I don't know."

He's gone. God, he's gone. Euijoo is rambling, already looking away, moving on from the conversation because it's probably just another conversation to him. But Nicholas is gone. His heart fills with fond, constricted against his ribcage and all he wants to do is free it open. He wants to reach a hand out, not for a poke or a nudge this time. He wants to trace the pad of his fingers along Euijoo's jaw, turn his head maybe and close the gap between them. He wants his breath to tickle against Euijoo's skin until he's giggling. Or maybe plant the softest of kisses on those upturned lips. He wants to hold him, god, he wants to hold him. Instead, Nicholas rakes a hand over his hair and grumbles into his palms. God, I want him so bad.

"Euijoo?"

"Hm?"

.

.

.

"I like you."

A beat.

And then another.

And then the next is from his own heart, beating thunders into his ears.

What's going through Euijoo's head now? Is he thinking about it? He's the type to think after all. What look does he have on his face? What's he feeling right now? Is he usually this silent? His Euijoo Encyclopedia has no record for anything like this.

"Juju—"

There's this…stare that Euijoo has. Does, often, Nicholas realizes now that it's focused at him once more. It's distant, like he's staring past a point only he can see, but he's not because Nicholas feels the stare. Weighted. Gnawing, almost. Only now, the stare is wet with emotions he doesn't know what to make out of. He quickly learns that he's not the biggest fan of that look. And he has a gnawing feeling he won't like what will follow.

"I'm sorry, Nicholas."

—

Nicholas had to drag himself back home, tired in all possible sense. He didn't feel much of it so it's not really a trouble. But then again, he's not feeling much of a lot since he had to watch Euijoo slip past the crowd after just three words. Two, technically, because his name doesn't count—what does it matter even. His brain has also been packing the most useless of thoughts. Defense mechanism, perhaps.

The most recent of them is what he has reddit open for after a while.

I (25M) got rejected by my best friend (25M).

It's what the title says.

excellent-cactus: wait is this THE op?

thingamajiggle: wait the one who kind of sounds full of himself

singlesweater: pause I thought you said HE likes YOU

excellent-cactus: wasn't it obvious from the start op was projecting and liked his best friend all this time-_-

singlesweater: I was giving him the benefit of the doubt…

charcoalcat: HEY

ironwolf89: it's ok op there's plenty of other fish in the sea!!

charcoalcat: but HE'S the only fish I want…he such a cute fish…he actually looks like a fish. if only I can send a photo

mature-squid2436: describe him brother

charcoalcat: I don't want u imagining him

The idea is not only futile, but it's also giving him unnecessary headache over his heart ache so he shuts his laptop. To hell with proper shutting down procedures.

He throws himself on the bed but he really wants to throw himself off a cliff. Or maybe Euijoo off the cliff. Or maybe they both can jump off the cliff—what'd he say, defense mechanism.

The digicam lies pitiful atop his bedside table. Forget about using it, he never even got to take it out, too distracted by Euijoo to have it cross his mind again. In the same vein, he forgot about his phone's existence too and so the cherry on top is that he doesn't even have anything to show for it. No pictures, no videos. The extra syrup is the fact that his most salient memory of today is Euijoo rejecting him.

With an exhausted sigh, he sits up, grabs the camera with as much energy he can muster and presses on the buttons mindlessly.

At the first photo that warps on display, an empty laugh escapes his lips. "Maki looked so young here." A scoff. "Euijoo, you—you beautiful piece of—ugh."

He continues with this impromptu trip down the memory lane, finding an odd comfort in it.

"Oh my god, this was when Yuma wanted to try a buzz cut. What the hell, I totally forgot Maki had pink hair once. Aww, I miss Harua. Now he's there, on big stages, maybe I should become a fansite—wait, yo what is this? Gotta send this to Maki. Oh god some of these are so old I don't even remember taking them. Hah, another Yuma buzz cut and