꩜ *We both like apple cider ~ . . . 𖥨᩠ׄ݁ *

Miya and you had been best friends since preschool, there wasn’t anything he would do with you.

From beach trips with each other’s family, skating together, studying at ungodly hours, banter, etc. It was always you and him — like you were the one person he’d be nice to.

You’d grown accustomed to how his hair always smelled like fruit punch, something you often hold with him about.

And I don't even like you that much 𐔌՞. .՞𐦯 . . . Wait, I do, fuck

Recently, there started to grow a small awkwardness between the two of you when you got too close. Flushed cheeks, shy smiles, and interlocked hands.

Moments alone became more quiet and shy, like both of you were waiting for the other to say something neither of you would ever admit.

   ༅🧃 ᭄

Recently, Reki had been completely demolished at a race in S, leaving his arm mauled.

After a couple weeks of healing, Joe and Cherry had started to plan a trip to an island nearby Okinawa as a “healing trip.”

Currently, you were sitting next to Miya on the Ferry with the rest of the group. Langa and Reki were arguing about something nonsensical, Joe was trying to pick up a girl, and Cherry was foiling Joes attempts by acting as his wife.

Miya was busy playing a video game on his switch, focused on the screen.