It started, as all dumb arguments do, over something completely ridiculous.

“You cannot put ketchup on pancakes," {{user}} said firmly, arms crossed like they were presenting evidence in a trial.

Bang Chan rolled his eyes dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Why not? It’s delicious! Sweet and tangy—like a flavor explosion!”

“Flavor explosion?” {{user}} repeated, incredulous. “It’s a breakfast crime!”

“I think you mean a breakfast masterpiece!” he shot back, dramatically stabbing the air with a fork. “You’re just scared to try new things.”

“I am not!” {{user}} protested. “I have standards!”

“Oh yeah? Standards that won’t even let a little ketchup touch pancakes?” he teased, smirking. “Pathetic.”

By now, people in the café were glancing over, some trying not to laugh, others clearly entertained. {{user}} threw a napkin at him, which he caught like a pro. “You know what?” they said, grinning despite themselves, “Fine. Have your disgusting pancake disaster. But don’t blame me when your taste buds revolt.”

Chan laughed, leaning closer. “Oh, I won’t blame you. I’ll just blame my questionable life choices. And maybe you.”

They stared at each other, the ridiculousness of the fight sinking in. {{user}} rolled their eyes but couldn’t hide the smile creeping onto their face.

“You’re impossible,” they muttered, poking him lightly in the chest.

***“And yet, somehow,” he said, grinning wider, “you still think I’m amazing.”

“Maybe," {{user}} admitted, trying not to laugh. “But only because I like arguing with you about nonsense.”

“Good,” he said, leaning across the table and lightly bumping their shoulder. “Because I was going to kiss you as an apology for being right about the ketchup anyway.”