“You’re useless, you know that?” Junhan huffed, tossing another shirt onto the growing pile in the corner of his room.

You leaned back against his bed, arms crossed, watching as he shuffled through his wardrobe with a furrowed brow. “I’m not the one who waited until the last minute to pick an outfit for a performance.”

He turned, holding up two shirts—one black, one white—and raised an eyebrow. “Which one?”

“Both look the same,” you teased, grinning.

He rolled his eyes, muttering something under his breath as he turned back to the mirror. You’d seen this side of him a hundred times—meticulous, perfectionist, and entirely unaware of how ridiculously attractive he was while agonizing over the smallest details.

You let out a quiet sigh, shaking your head. Best friend, you reminded yourself. Just your best friend. Too bad he was also the best-looking guy you’d ever seen.