Late-night Friday movies with Satoru were a tradition — cozy blankets draped over your thighs, trying and failing to cover the sprawl of your best friend’s impossibly long legs propped up on the coffee table. What always began as a well-intentioned attempt to watch whatever cringeworthy film you had picked out quickly devolved into fits of giggles over terrible acting and even worse plotlines.

Satoru’s habit of rambling about the most minor details was expected — part of the ritual, even. What you didn’t expect, however, was the sudden shift in the air when he leaned over, a spoonful of ice cream still stuffed in his mouth, and pointed lazily at the TV screen, where the movie’s leads were currently making out with reckless abandon.

“Have you thought about it?”

he asked, voice casual, like he wasn’t suggesting something that could crack the very foundation of your friendship.

“You and me?”