This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and situations are purely the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and unintentional. The characters are not based on real individuals, and no connection to actual persons is intended.

This story contains questionable actions and themes that do not reflect my personal beliefs, values, or approval. They exist solely for the sake of the plot and narrative development, and are not meant to be endorsed or encouraged.

Bottom line: it’s fiction. Take it for what it is — a fictional story created for entertainment purposes.

When a raindrop lands on his nose, Felix looks up at the sky. The clouds have gathered over Sydney, a clear sign that summer is slipping away. June is just around the corner, and winter is starting to bite, especially for Felix, who’s never been particularly good at dealing with the cold. He pulls his hood over his head and quickens his pace toward Jisung’s apartment.

Jisung lives in a run-down suburban complex. His neighbors are loud and rude, and the staircase leading up to the third floor is covered in graffiti, offensive slurs, and bold promises of “out-of-this-world blowjobs” if you dare to call a certain phone number. By now, Felix knows every ridiculous scribble by heart.

When he reaches Jisung’s door, Felix knocks firmly. The doorbell is broken, so it’s his only option, other than hoping Jisung hears him. Thankfully, he does. Jisung opens the door, holding a sandwich dripping with mayonnaise.

“You’re finally here. I thought you got lost.”

“I had to take three buses to get here,” Felix complains before stepping into the apartment and dropping his duffel bag onto the floor. Due to a water leak in his own apartment, he had to vacate it, at least temporarily. Jisung offered to host him. Someone else had also offered, but Felix values his mental well-being far too much to dive headfirst into a kamikaze situation.

Jisung walks toward the living room—which is basically attached to the entryway, just like the kitchen and the rest of the apartment. It’s a tiny one-bedroom place, and Felix is stuck with the couch for the next five days. He already feels a twinge in three different spots on his back, and he hasn’t even sat down yet.

“Thanks for—hosting me, saving my life, sparing me from drowning thanks to my neighbors’ busted pipe.”

Jisung laughs, crossing his legs on the couch, then pats the cushion next to him. “Come here. I’m glad you decided to shack up with me in this dump—I was really sure you’d run straight into Chan’s arms.”

Felix looks at Jisung with the same kind of hatred you reserve for a bus that drives right past you after you’ve been waiting at the stop for half an hour.

Felix sat down next to him and snatched the remote from his hands, switching away from the ridiculous anime Jisung was watching to some random cooking channel. Why? No reason, other than to annoy him just the right amount.

“AH— Look at him! He just got here and already acts like he owns the place!” Jisung complained, poking Felix with his foot. “And what did I even say that was so wrong? I’m genuinely surprised. You’ve been head over heels for him your whole life. This would’ve been your golden chance to make a move on Mr. Perfect.”

Yeah, it would have been the golden chance, true enough. But Felix had given up on such fantasies years ago.

There was a time in his life when he genuinely believed in the happy endings they always talked about in the movies he used to watch with his sister on TV. He thought he might even get one of his own. Damn false advertising.

When he first realized he had fallen head over heels for his best friend, it hadn’t seemed like such a tragic thing. He’d been sure all it would take was to talk to him openly, tell him honestly how he felt, confess his feelings. That would solve everything, right? Surely. Chan would grab him by the shoulders, pull him close, and kiss him—a real kiss, the kind that makes your heart race and your ears burn. Then he’d pull back and say, “Fucking finally. I feel the same, Lix. Always have.”

What a beautiful thought.

The perfect scenario.

Too bad reality had slapped Felix in the face before he even got a chance to plan that suicide mission.

He was in the middle of writing out his confession speech (yes, he figured scripting and rehearsing it a couple hundred times at home might make it easier to spit it out when the time came) when he bore witness to one of the most awful spectacles he’d ever seen.

Chan had recently joined the basketball team, despite his laughable height, and had worked hard to win over his teammates. Not only was he short, but he’d also been held back multiple times, so he’d had to go the extra mile to fit in. Even if that meant mimicking the asshole bully behavior of his new friends.

Colin was a sophomore, quiet and kind, and for the past few weeks, there had been rumors circulating that he liked boys. Someone had seen him at the movies with another guy (as if that proved anything!), and since then, the gossip had been relentless. And the rumors were cruel.

Chan and his new crew of friends never missed an opportunity to shout “Faggot!” and burst out laughing whenever Colin walked by. Then they’d flatten themselves against the wall, pretending to be scared out of their minds, begging Colin not to fuck them.

Absolute jerks, in other words.

Felix had realized two things:

One, Chan was an idiot who would do anything to get others to like him.

Two, Chan was a homophobic piece of shit.

That made the whole idea of confessing his feelings downright ridiculous. At best, Chan would pretend not to hear him. At worst, Felix would be the next one called a “faggot” and mocked by a pack of bullies.

It was simply out of the question.

Then, they both grew up.

Chan had stopped being a bully and deeply regretted being such a jerk. He didn’t want anyone to bring up that period of his life because it embarrassed him. Like a caterpillar turning into a butterfly, he had transformed into a decent person. He became more handsome, more muscular, more of a man. But not taller, which discouraged him. Still, it didn’t take long for him to find his confidence, and that’s when his real hormonal explosion happened. Girls started falling all over him, and since he couldn’t decide which of the many who had crushes on him to pursue, he thought it best to go for all of them. No exceptions.

Felix quickly lost track of all the Claras, Jennas, Lindas, Whitneys, and Lauras Chan talked about. At some point, it got so ridiculous that Chan started mixing them up, and it fell to Felix to remind him who was who—his memory being sharper, forged by the trauma of hearing every explicit detail of his eternal crush’s hookups.

Eventually, even that wild sex phase came to an end. Chan found the one, and her name was Evelyn.

Felix had never hated anyone until Evelyn came into their lives.

To be fair, Evelyn was lovely. She was sweet, kind, funny. She had so much in common with Chan—they loved the same movies and even the same musicians. Things Felix also liked, but once he learned they had become their special things, he started to hate them.

The problem was that Evelyn resembled Felix so much it felt like the universe had crafted this situation as a custom-made torture device to punish him for some unknown crime.

They had similar personalities, similar tastes, even dressed similarly (they shopped at the same hippie stores and shared a love for a particular artisanal boutique). Their faces even bore a certain resemblance!

But Evelyn was a girl, and Felix was not. That made all of his qualities invisible, while Evelyn’s were endlessly praised by Chan.

At least, until Chan vanished off the radar.

They had started university but chosen different majors. Chris moved into a dorm near his campus, started a part-time job, and tried to juggle his busy new life with his relationship with Evelyn. They drifted apart—a gentler way of saying that Chan no longer had time for Felix.

After all, Felix was just a friend. What had he expected?

About four months later, Chan texted him, asking to meet up.

Felix went to the chosen spot—a cat café Felix had always loved but Chan hadn’t, which Felix took as a peace offering—and he hoped, with all his heart, that Chan would tell him he’d broken up with Evelyn. That he was sorry for disappearing and realized he’d been wrong, that he needed Felix in his life.

That didn’t happen.

Chan talked about Evelyn the entire time. They were still together, of course, and he was madly in love with her. But lately, she’d been distant, and it was making him anxious. He didn’t want to lose her, so he was working hard to save up for a getaway—a short trip for the two of them. It would be their first vacation together, and he couldn’t wait until he had enough money to make it happen.

Felix stewed in bitterness, of course. But he didn’t say a single word that might betray how he felt.

They’d been best friends forever.

It was his job to support Chan and all that other crap.

Chan never disappeared from his life again after that meeting. In fact, their bond became stronger. Chan began opening up to Felix more and more, and Felix felt they were growing closer. Their relationship became symbiotic; they were practically each other’s shadow and spent an absurd amount of time together—helped by the fact that Chan lost his job, which meant goodbye to the planned trip with Evelyn.

Eventually, those two broke up. Chan became a gray, depressed shell of himself, and Felix had to comfort him. But he did it gladly. He hugged Chan whenever he needed it and prayed Chan never noticed how fast his heart raced when he held him close.

They’ve never been apart since.

They’re still best friends.

And Felix is still hopelessly in love with him.

“Chan’s not into guys,” Felix says with a huff. “I’ve told you that a hundred times.”

Jisung rolls his eyes. “You don’t know that for sure. He’s never said otherwise, and he could very well be bi.”

“God, I hate gays like you,” Felix mutters. “You’re one of those obnoxious people who think everyone in the world is gay and, if they’re not, it’s only because they haven’t tried yet.”

“Which, by the way, is true.”

“No, it’s a toxic mindset.”

Jisung bites into his sandwich, smearing mayonnaise on his lips. “Whatever. Chan did seem pretty jealous when he heard you were staying with me.”

“Bullshit. He was relieved. His apartment’s smaller than yours, and we would’ve been cramped.”

“Uh-huh. Sexy.”

“Shut up, Jisung,” Felix snaps.

“Isn’t Katy’s party tomorrow? I can’t wait to rub it in his face that we’re glued to each other now that you’re here. Watch him closely—I bet he’ll turn all sorts of colors.”

Felix presses his hands to his face, exasperated. Jisung was just running his mouth, obviously. The truth was, Chan didn’t give a damn that Felix wasn’t staying with him. If anything, he’d probably only offered because he felt obligated by their friendship, nothing more.

Convincing Jisung of that, though, would’ve been harder than convincing a brick wall.

It wasn’t worth it.

It would just be a colossal waste of time.