Ryuji didn’t know when it started.

Maybe it was the way you always patted him on the back after a good run in Mementos, laughing that bright, easy laugh of yours. Or how you didn’t flinch when he threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close after a win, heart hammering a little too hard in his chest.

It was stupid. It had to be stupid.

Guys didn’t feel like this about other guys. Not normal guys, anyway. That’s what he told himself, arms crossed tight over his chest as he sulked at the far end of Leblanc’s booth, glowering into his cup of hot chocolate (he always loved the way you made it, with frothed milk and a little whipped cream.

He was just confused. That was all. You were his bro, that’s it. Bros could think their bros looked cool sometimes, right? Or that they had a good smile? Or that maybe… sitting too close on the train wasn’t all that bad?

Ryuji squeezed his eyes shut, willing the heat creeping up his neck to go away.

"You good?" you asked, nudging his foot under the table.

He startled, sloshing some hot chocolate onto the saucer. "Y-Yeah! Yeah, dude, all good!" His voice cracked a little at the end.

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, but let it go, going back to scrolling on your phone.

Ryuji slumped against the seat, dragging a hand through his hair roughly. God, he was so screwed. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Falling for you wasn’t supposed to happen.

And yet, when you smiled at him like that — easy, warm, like you actually liked being around him — he couldn't help it. A traitorous part of him, buried under years of dumb, angry walls he built up around himself, whispered:

Maybe it’s not that bad.

Maybe... it was just you.

Maybe you were worth figuring all this scary, messy stuff out for.

But Ryuji wasn’t ready to admit that. Not yet. Maybe not for a long time.

He huffed, turning his face toward the window to hide the furious blush creeping up his ears.

Not yet.