Luca’s eating lunch in the cafeteria when his phone gives an unexpected and surprising buzz in his pants pocket. Fishing it out, he gives it a wary look, fully understanding that it’s either his dad asking for him to pick Rico up from school, a client for his dog-walking job, or—if the feeling in his gut is to be trusted—Junho.

Wincing internally, he chances a look and—

[ rico gave me your number lol ]

[ can’t escape me now, can ya, smartass ;) ]

Luca groans, setting his phone back down so as not to tempt himself into a response, and resumes funneling food into his mouth, barely tasting anything as his thoughts drift.

It’s not to be. Not even a minute later, more texts follow.

[ what do u thinka bout hotpockets cuz thats what im eating fr breakfast ]

[ kekeke its the pizza kind ]

[ so delicious, so tasty, love it sm :) :) :) ]

[ jk hotpockets aint shit, im just lazy and out of toaster struddel rn ]

Gritting his teeth, Luca fights the temptation to respond.

[ okay i take it back, this hotpocket im eating is pretty bomb ]

[ its too bad you’re a pizza bigot :) :) otherwise u could enjoy it too ]

[ u kno what im so depressed for your tastebuds, bud ]

Luca scoffs.

[ It’s not breakfast. It’s lunch time, you ]

Backspace, backspace, backspace.

Resist it, he inwardly grumbles.

A flash of images bombard him then, unwanted and shame-inducing as he chews and swallows his food slowly. 

Junho’s hooded expression. His full lips and pretty teeth. The infuriatingly attractive swoop to the cut of his bangs and confident smile that stretches across his face. Then he recalls the feeling of Junho pressed against him, belt to belt, nose to nose and the resulting ball of heat in his middle that tightened in reaction to feeling the mist of Junho's breath and seeing the flick of his tongue across his lips.

Finally, he comes upon his last, and still most vivid impression of the night before: the raw panic that seized him just as they were about to kiss.

Warmth spreads throughout his face at the mortification of it, his thoughts buzzing anew with the feeling of alarm that had consumed him in the second before he pulled away, lingering on the disordered way he made his escape last night. Recalling it just fills him with more shame, more embarrassment over the awkward way he handled things with Junho.

His phone buzzes.

[ dude u gon type and then leave me on read? thats cold blooded :’( ]

Luca barks out a surprised laugh and, before he can think better of it, almost immediately begins to type a response.

[ Dude ]

Erase.

[ I don't ]

Erase.

[ Idiot ]

Erase.

Luca stares at the screen, feeling mocked.

It doesn’t change the fact that he has no idea what the fuck to say. Much to his surprise and great discomfort, nothing witty comes to mind—not even a deflective insult that would have surely gotten Junho off his back for good if he put enough bite into it. 

Sure, he can mention Junho’s dreadful grammar skills and retort something about his poor dietary choices, but even with that much fodder, no comprehensible sentences come to the foreground as he types, backspaces, and tries again.

Luca grits his teeth, stymied by his inability to say fuck all.

[ what r u eating for lunch? :o ]

[ Can you shut up for a moment, I’m thinking ]

Luca sends the text absentmindedly, hitting enter before he can process the action.

And promptly begins to panic as he sees the message go through and realizes what he's just fucking done.

His pulse quickens, the pads of his fingers begin to sweat, and butterflies are quick to make a home in his stomach, spoiling his appetite and making his breath feel shorter as he waits for the inevitable response.

Junho types for a moment, the bubbles popping up on Luca’s screen but after a minute, no new messages come. He’s actually shutting up.

Face so hot, he feels as if he’s eaten an entire jalapeño whole, Luca struggles for a moment to regain confidence in himself as the realization sets in just why exactly this is so hard for him.

Luca, in all the time he’s been alive, has never kept any friends his own age.

Not for lack of want either. At least, not at first.

As a child he’d been awkward and shy, reserved and low energy, hiding behind his sister as she braved the world for them with cheerful grins and giddy laughter that drew in others easily. He’d let her speak for him in social situations and remained apprehensive towards new people and change, relying completely on her to guide him socially. 

In elementary school, it only got worse after they’d been split into different classes and Luca couldn’t rely on Ciana to make friends for him anymore. He didn't adjust well, even with teachers attempts to help. Instead, he’d lingered just outside of where the others played, pretending he wasn’t when the teachers asked if he was lonely.

Middle school was the most difficult. He’d been the tiniest boy in his class, a late bloomer in comparison to everyone else and socially, he'd remained awkward and reserved, to a painful extent. By eighth grade, Luca had stopped wanting friends when they were so troublesome to get, keeping to himself in the back of the classes, speaking only when pressed by the teacher or absolutely necessary. Surprisingly, he wasn’t bullied for it. Boys didn’t pick on him, never really said anything too bad about him either. They seemed distracted with their own lives and had better things going on than paying attention to a kid that didn't really stand out much to begin with.

Girls were, are, a different matter.

For whatever reason, maybe because he was so different, they’d tried doting on him, cooing and fawning over his pretty blue eyes and boyish stature, laughing when he got flustered and clammed up. They’d almost made a game of it, like hide and go seek, except he was the only one hiding and they didn't give him much warning to hide. Thankfully, they quickly lost interest after it became clear Luca wasn't to be found if he didn't want to be.

Freshman year had been a time of almosts. Luca had almost made friends with a boy that sat next to him in choir. Luca had almost made friends with a new girl in his science class when they’d partnered up for a project. Luca had almost signed up for track after the schools P.E. instructor noticed his running speed for the mile.

And then Ciana’s health began failing again and Luca suddenly didn’t want any of it. He didn’t want to talk to Marshal or Julie. He didn’t want to run competitively, or join a team. He just focused on his school work and kept to himself, like always and that has continued on until...

Until now. As if, because his sister died, everything has to change. 

Even himself.

Junho texts, evidently maxing out on his patience.

[ still thinking??? :o ]

It draws Luca out of himself and with a strained breath in his lungs, he works his fingers into replying to him.

[ A burrito made with cauliflower, black bean, bell pepper, red onion and rice. Leftover beef barley soup. Sliced watermelon. Pomegranate juice. ]

[ How does your stupid hot pocket hold up now? ]

Junho’s reply is damn near instantaneous and it comes in waves.

[ WHAT THE FUCK!!!!! (༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ 三 ༎ຶ ۝ ༎ຶ) ]

[ THAT SOUNDS ADJHSKJ ]

[ OMF ]

[ did u make it urself? ]

[ SEND PICS PLS ]

[ rico always brags about your cooking ]

[ and ciana called u a masterchef genius ]

[ im so JEALOUS _:(´□`」 ∠):_ ]

[ srsly what th fuck i cant even imagine, that sounds delicious ]

[ you’ve put my hotpocket to shame ]

[ i have been humbled ]

[ because of u, i have seen the errors of my ways (シ_ _)シ ]

Luca smiles faintly but upon reading his sister’s name, the sensation of guilt is damn near overwhelming. He bows his head, waits a moment, and lets loose the breath he’s been holding. Trying not to think, he holds his phone up to snap a picture of the beef barley soup and what remains of his burrito.

[ im ]

[ IM ]

[ im so HUNGRY!!!!! _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):_ ]

[ hey ]

[ hey luca ]

[ if i paid u, would you pls cook something for me? ԅ(¯﹃¯ԅ) ]

Luca sends out a quick reply.

[ No. ]

Junho is not to be dissuaded.

[ l u c aaaaa ]

[ pleaase ｡:ﾟ(;´∩`;)ﾟ:｡ ]

[ No way. ]

[ _:(´□`」 ∠):_ please, i beg u ]

[ No. ]

[ (ʃƪ˘･ᴗ･˘) ]

[ Fuck no. ]

[ (ʃƪº̩̩́⌣º̩̩̀) please. per favore. 제발 (jebal)!!! ]

[ that means please too, but like, in a more intense way than a regular please, ya feel? super intense. like im begging on my knees,,,,, almost ]

[ but not really lol ]

[ it’s not that /that/ intense ]

[ ꉂ (๑¯ਊ¯)σ л̵ʱªʱªʱª ]

[ luca u still there?? ]

[ boi if u dont say yes ]

[ just say yes already!! omg ]

But Luca isn’t paying attention anymore. He’s distracted—disturbed, more like—with thoughts of Junho on his knees.

Just when he thinks his face can’t get any hotter... and just when he thinks he's reoriented his thoughts.

Covering his mouth with one hand and typing with the other, Luca stifles laughter at the absurdity of his situation and resigns himself to his fate as he realizes that while he’s stubborn, Junho is on an entirely different level.

[ Maybe if you pay me. ]

He figures he can at least get something out of it.

[ name your price ( ƅ°ਉ°)ƅ ]

[ I don’t fucking know. However much the ingredients cost, plus $20? ]

[ What do you even want to eat, dumbass? The burrito? ]

Junho takes a moment to get back to him.

[ dumbass wants to eat japchae rn (˶‾᷄﹃‾᷅˵) ]

[ but ( ･ิ,_ゝ･ิ) you’re not very familiar with korean food are you? ]

Luca purses his lips.

[ As far as Asian cuisine goes, I can make a few Japanese and Indian dishes, maybe a few Chinese if I get a detailed enough recipe, but I can’t say I’ve ever attempted anything strictly Korean. ]

He hesitates before pressing send, almost immediately mildly regretting that he didn’t just say no. He could have just said no. He’s baffled why he didn't.

He just... didn't.

The embarrassment threatens to suffocate him. His heartbeat hasn’t slowed since they started texting. His stomach roils with nerves that make his fingers shake while he types. God, it’s unbearable.

But he doesn’t shut off his phone like he could have either.

[ maybe u could try? :o japchae is just stir-fried glass noodles so shouldn’t be too hard??? but idk i never made it either kekeke ]

[ my grandma can make it in like forty minutes ]

[ if she werent out of state right now, id bring u over for her to teach you but alas, my halmeoni is still away ]

Luca goes into deep thought, exiting the messages to search online for a recipe, contemplating the ingredients. The noodles are made from sweet potato corn starch and though he can probably just buy some, he wonders if he can make it from scratch like he usually does when making anything with pasta.

Minutes after his last text, Junho interrupts Luca's musing.

[ (ᇂ_ᇂ|||) if its too hard ]

[ just make me something u wanna eat (´ε｀ )♡ ]

Luca is quick to respond. 

[ No, I’ll do it. ]

It goes without saying that so is Junho.

[ omg! ]

[ ᕙ(˵ ಠ ਊ ಠ ˵)ᕗ yes! thank u,,, ur so cool ]

Luca swallows thickly.

[ I have to get to class now. ]

[ Bye, idiot. ]

As if on cue, the first bell rings and with haste, Luca gets to repackaging the food he hasn’t eaten, storing it for later when his stomach finally settles again.

When he glances at his phone next, it’s to see only one message.

[ k, byyye thou whomst is smart of ass *՞ਊ՞*)ﾉ゛]

Snorting, Luca rolls his eyes and promptly decides to save Junho’s number in the most accurate depiction of him that he can: dumbass. Then, shoving everything into his backpack, he sets off to his next class, feeling a bizarre sense of giddiness over what has just transpired.

Even apprehensive, he can’t help but feel like it has been... sort of fun, talking with Junho.