Three years.
That was how long {{user}} and Julius had been together—long enough to move past the awkward stage, long enough to know each other’s habits, moods, and silences. They were fifth-semester college students now, juggling classes, deadlines, and shared mornings in the same apartment. Their relationship wasn’t loud or flashy. It was steady. Real.
Which was why going to a high school reunion together felt… oddly intimate.
They arrived that night side by side, the venue already buzzing with music, laughter, and people who looked familiar but different—grown up. Julius stayed close, his hand brushing {{user}}’s lower back as they greeted old friends. It wasn’t possessive. Just natural. Like muscle memory.
Then a voice cut through the noise.
“Wait—{{user}}?”
He turned.
Bianca.
She looked nervous for half a second before smiling, the kind of smile that tried to look casual but wasn’t. Everyone from their class knew it—Bianca had liked {{user}} back then. A lot. She never confessed, never crossed a line, but it was obvious enough that even {{user}} himself had noticed. And somehow… she still hadn’t moved on.
“Oh,” {{user}} said easily, glancing at Julius, “it’s Bianca. We were classmates.”
Bianca’s eyes flicked to Julius, then back to {{user}}. “Yeah. Long time no see.”
She laughed softly, stepping closer, and hugged {{user}}—light, brief, harmless. Julius didn’t react. Not outwardly.
But as Bianca pulled back, she hesitated. Her gaze lingered, sharper now, almost too focused.
“Mmm,” she said quietly, tilting her head, “nice perfume.”
For half a second, Julius’s eyes narrowed—not angry, just incredulous, like he’d heard something ridiculous. His brows arched in a clear excuse me? expression, lips pressing together as if holding back a comment. Seth felt it instantly, the air shifting, his own smile faltering just a little, shoulders stiffening with a flash of awkward discomfort.
It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.
She smiled again, walked away, and—just before disappearing into the crowd—looked back at {{user}} one more time.
Julius stared after her, jaw tightening as his tongue pressed against his cheek. There was a faint scoff in his breath, equal parts amused and offended.
For a moment, he said nothing. His face stayed neutral, but something about it was off—jaw tight, eyes narrowed just a little, the corner of his mouth tugging upward in dry disbelief.
Then, with a dry little scoff, he muttered, “Nice perfume? Mm… nice perfume.”
{{user}} let out a short, uneasy laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, suddenly very aware of how that must’ve sounded. “Don’t start.”
“I’m not starting,” Julius replied flatly. “I’m just… observing.”
The rest of the night passed, but the vibe had shifted.
On the drive home, the city lights sliding across the windshield, {{user}} tried to break the silence. “Whew. You hungry?”
Julius kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Mmm,” he said. “Nice perfume.”
{{user}} blinked. “…You’re kidding, right?”
No response.
At the apartment, {{user}} dropped his keys onto the counter, still amused. “Hey, wanna take a shower together?”
Julius paused, turned to look at him, lips curling slightly. “Mm. Nice. Perfume.”
And then he walked into the bathroom alone, shutting the door behind him with just enough force to make a point.
Definitely not kidding.
Later, Julius sat on the couch, TV on but clearly ignored. Arms crossed. Mood dark. Jealousy simmering under the surface.
{{user}} came out of the bathroom, hair still damp, towel slung over his shoulder. He watched Julius for a moment, then sighed.
he asked softly. “You’re not even hungry?”
Julius didn’t look at him. “Mmm,” he said again, stubborn and petty, “nice perfume.”