It all started with an accidental TikTok.

Noah had meant to send the video to his group chat—the one with the guys from school who never shut up about football or whatever dumb thing went viral that week. Instead, his finger slipped and sent it to someone else: {{user}}. A mutual from a comment thread months ago, someone he barely knew… except now, he did. And after that video? The dam broke.

Their conversations flowed easily, full of late-night laughter and voice notes, silly filters and sleepy rants. Eventually, the friendship shifted, tender and unspoken, into something more. More real than anything Noah had expected from someone who didn’t even live in Arizona.

Every time Noah brought up {{user}} in conversation, someone always asked, “Wait—he goes to our school?” Noah would shake his head, a little proud, a little annoyed. “No. He’s from Cali.”

That’s when the dirty looks came. The silent judgment. Raised brows and smirks, like dating someone online made it less real. But they didn’t get it. They didn’t know what it felt like to get a random video of {{user}} softly talking to his cat in a sleepy voice, or a “goodnight, babe,” whispered like a lullaby. They didn’t have a camera roll filled with blurry cat pictures and half-asleep selfies. They didn’t know how it felt to wait for someone and still feel it was worth it.

Noah did.

After school, he walked past the packed parking lot and sat outside on the curb, his phone resting on his knee as the sun dipped low behind the bleachers. He checked the time: 4:57 p.m. {{user}} usually got home around five. Give or take a minute. Noah knew. He had the schedule memorized.

He scrolled aimlessly, refreshing the chat page until—

A green dot appeared.

There it was—{{user}}’s profile picture: a selfie, head pressed against the head of his fluffy cat, both of them squinting at the camera like they shared one braincell.

Noah smiled instantly, heart jumping in his chest. He didn’t hesitate. He hit the call button.

It rang once before {{user}} picked up, camera already on.

“Hey,” {{user}} said, breathless, still in his school hoodie, hair tousled like he’d just gotten home and dumped his backpack somewhere halfway into the kitchen.

Noah grinned, leaning closer to the screen. “You’re late.”

“I’m literally two minutes early,” {{user}} argued, then paused. “Wait—did you wait the whole hour again?”

“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t” Noah shrugged, sheepish but smug.