The memory of what happened at Katy's party haunts Felix like a ghost. It doesn’t matter if he’s at the supermarket doing groceries, at work, or in the shower—those moments replay in his mind like a film. Chan had smirked when he said those words. Felix is certain of it, but he doesn’t fully understand why. Was he mocking him? At first, Felix thought that smirk was pure sadism, but then he reconsidered. Chan had no idea he was gay, let alone that he was infatuated with him. So why the smug grin? Maybe he found it funny to humiliate him by making him dress like a woman... But if that was enough to amuse him, wasn’t it just proof that Chan was still a damn homophobe?

No matter how much Felix thought about it, he could never arrive at a satisfying conclusion. Every idea seemed to lead to the wrong answer. In the end, he decided to let it go. Chan was an open book—but written in a language Felix couldn’t understand. He could see how the words were written, but their meaning eluded him. And that left him feeling stressed, impatient.

He lights a cigarette. The last one, he tells himself. Then he smiles at the thought of how many times he’s promised himself this one will be the last. Each time he quits for a while—maybe a few days, or if he’s especially motivated, a few weeks—but he inevitably slips back. Nicotine is the only thing that can calm him when his nerves get restless beneath his skin. He takes a drag, the white smoke curling out from his lips. The sky is white, heavy with rain. Felix really hopes it won’t start to pour; he doesn’t have an umbrella. He quickens his pace as he walks home.

The days pass. The week rushes by mercilessly. Felix works all day at a city minimarket, unpacking boxes and restocking shelves. It’s simple but demanding work. His favorite part is when a customer feels like chatting—the time always seems to pass faster when he can exchange a few words with someone. Funny, isn’t it? Especially considering how introverted Felix really is.

Soon, the day of the dinner hosted by Chan’s parents arrives. That morning, Felix wakes up with a jolt, his heart beating a little faster in his chest. He grabs his phone and unlocks the screen. No messages. He hasn’t heard from Chan since Katy’s party, and he’s starting to seriously think Chan has either forgotten about it or that the invitation wasn’t serious in the first place. Maybe Chan never actually wanted Felix to come to the dinner with him—let alone dressed as a woman. Felix should feel relieved at the prospect, but instead… he feels almost disappointed. And of course, it’s not about the crossdressing.

It’s the whole pretending-to-be-Chan’s-partner thing.

He throws his phone onto the mattress and covers his face with his hands. What an idiot. He’s giving this too much importance. In the end, it’s not even a big deal. Who cares about the party? And more importantly, who cares about Chan?

Probably when the alcohol buzz wore off, Chan came to his senses and asked Dana to go with him instead. That’s a far more logical choice, especially considering the kind of events his parents throw. Felix in crossdressing wouldn’t exactly have been a showstopper. And Chan definitely doesn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of all his influential cousins milling around.

Yeah, that’s probably what happened.
Much better, really.
Felix can save his dignity and stop being such a dreamer.

He gets out of bed. He can’t stand those sheets anymore; they suddenly feel too tight, suffocating. He’s irritable, though admitting it would only make him feel worse. He marches straight to the kitchen, turns on the coffee machine, and immediately, Jisung is all over him like a vulture swooping down on a carcass. He starts chattering away about some guy he met last night at a bar. Felix catches about half of what Jisung is saying, trying to focus on mechanical actions instead: grab the carafe, pour coffee into a mug, add sugar, stir.

Jisung is a whirlwind. He’s so caught up in his manic verbal spree that he doesn’t notice Felix’s mood. So he doesn’t stop talking. Not even for a second.

“…So this guy starts saying he’s strong, powerful, and worried he might hurt me. Ha! You can’t imagine how high my expectations were at that point—and not just those, if you catch my drift!” Jisung winks, leaning his hips against the counter and gesturing animatedly in ways Felix wishes he couldn’t interpret, but unfortunately, he gets it. Too well.

Ugh.

“Anyway, we get to the main event… He undresses slowly, like a movie star. Reveals a body that looked like carved marble, the stuff of legends. Then he climbs on top, growls like a tiger—I was trembling all over! One thrust, two thrusts, and… poof. All over. I swear I couldn’t believe it.”

Felix has to admit it. That story forces a low chuckle out of him. But despite the absurdity of the tale, he still wonders what he did to deserve hearing about failed hookups first thing in the morning. Then he wonders why the plumber is taking so long to fix the pipe in his apartment.

Felix has a strong stomach, but hearing about Jisung’s disastrous sexcapades this early is a whole new level of challenge.

“You should stop hopping from one fling to another and try actually getting to know someone… seriously,” Felix suggests, taking a sip of coffee before dragging himself to the couch. He flops down, crossing his legs and pulling a blanket over his knees.

“Yeah, right. Then I might fall in love with someone and discover we’re a total mismatch in bed. That’d be a tragedy. Way better to do it the other way around.”

Felix rolls his eyes, defeated. “Suit yourself.”

He’s halfway through his coffee when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Felix pulls it out, and the screen lights up. Chan’s name appears—he’s sent a message on Line.

Jisung doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not peeking at the screen.

“Oh, oh. The knight’s contacting the princess.”

“Cut it out, Jisung,” Felix mutters, feeling a strange rush of nerves. He opens the message. The unease grows when he reads what Chan has written.

“I’ll pick you up at 6 PM. Got the clothes for tonight. See you later.”

That’s it. Not a word more. No apology for being MIA for a whole week, no greeting, no how are you. And yet, Felix is fine with it. In fact, he’s more than fine. Suddenly, even the idea of putting on a skirt doesn’t seem so terrible anymore. He presses his phone against his face as Jisung laughs hysterically. Felix doesn’t even register the laughter. His heart is racing.

No matter what it takes, tonight he’ll be Chan’s boyfriend.
That’s more than he’s ever dared to hope for.

“Oh my God. Felix, I swear I’ve seen dozens of pornos that start exactly like this.”

Jisung’s comment is genuine, and God, Felix hates him for it. But what he hates even more is that he knows exactly what Jisung means and can’t entirely disagree. Still, nothing about this will have a porno twist. Felix is sure of it. Chan is straight. Very straight. Chan collects Sydney girls like trading cards, and he’s just shy of completing the set. This whole thing is just a stupid dare from a drunken game of spin the bottle. Nothing more.

Right?

“Jisung, stop putting weird ideas in my head,” Felix nearly whimpers. He squeezes his eyes shut, leans his head back, and lets it rest against the couch. His blonde hair brushes his shoulders, and his freckled face twists in a grimace. He feels anxious. Terribly anxious. He knows he’s still deep in the friendzone, but it feels like he’s inching closer to the edge, like he can almost glimpse the other side. And that’s already something.

He knows full well he can’t mess this up because there won’t be another chance. But he has no idea what not messing up even means—he doesn’t even know what will happen or how far Chan will go to convince his family that Felix is really his girlfriend. Probably not very far. Yet even that little bit is… everything to Felix.

The day drags on unbearably slowly. Felix takes a shower, then paces his apartment until his legs ache. He needs to stay busy to distract himself from the anxiety. But the closer the clock gets to the meeting time, the harder it is to stay calm. When Chan finally texts, “I’m downstairs,” Felix feels his hands tremble slightly. He curses under his breath as he grabs his coat and scarf.

“Talk to you later,” he says to Jisung.

Jisung is on the couch, remote in hand, watching a dramatic TV series. “I really hope not. I hope you text me tomorrow morning, all worn out from the sex,” his friend replies.

Felix considers taking off a shoe and hurling it at him but somehow resists the urge.

When he steps out onto the street, Chan’s car is waiting. It’s parked at the curb with its hazard lights on. Felix tells himself to calm down—it’s just Chan, his best friend since forever. There’s no reason to be nervous.

Then he places his hand on the door handle. With one last deep breath, he pulls it open.