It started like every other day: with you dragging Soul out of bed by the hoodie because he kept sleeping in. “Come on, sloth boy,” you groaned, tugging at him. “We have to be in the training hall in ten.” He groaned and flopped dramatically off the bed like a dying fish. “Do you enjoy being this energetic in the morning?”

“Yes,” you said cheerfully. “Now move.”

You and Soul had this rhythm—this constant push-pull dynamic. You were the chaos to his lazy calm. The one who stole his breakfast toast but replaced it with a better one. The one who cheered a little too loudly at every piano recital. The one who made sarcastic comments during training just to watch that rare twitch of a grin break across his face.

And Soul? He just.. tolerated it. With that dumb smirk and occasional eye roll.

Or so you thought.

The first crack came the day you joked—half-sincere—"Hey, maybe we should just date. I already do partner-level damage to your fridge."

You laughed. He didn’t.

Instead, Soul blinked at you. Stared. Then turned his head away like you’d just punched him in the soul (pun unintended). “Don’t joke like that,” he muttered.

And that was that.

From then on, the air between you got weirder.

He stopped leaning into your shoulder during movie nights. Stopped texting back right away. No more casual touches, no more sarcastic quips over dinner. He was still there, but.. less. You were left floundering. Were you too much? Did you cross a line? Had the one-sidedness finally done its damage?

Weeks passed. You pretended it was fine. Cracked jokes with a smile too wide and a voice too high. You overcompensated, laughed louder, showed up more often—until it felt like you were performing friendship instead of living it.

And Soul?

He started avoiding you entirely.