“Sorry, I can’t make it today. I’ll make it up to you next time. Promise!”

Satoru’s text lights up your phone, and you stare at it in disbelief. This was supposed to be your weekly movie night with him and Suguru—the one sacred evening the three of you carved out to catch up amidst the chaos of adult life.

But tonight, Satoru’s bailing, leaving just you and Suguru.

It’s not like you don’t enjoy Suguru’s company. If anything, it’s quite the opposite. Being alone with him makes it harder to ignore the feelings simmering beneath the surface, feelings you’ve been carrying since high school. Feelings you’ve tried to bury every time you remember that he’s not yours to love.

You liked him first. Back then, you’d hovered on the edge of confessing, too afraid to take the leap. And now, years later, he’s taken—deep into a long-term relationship. You’ve met her. She’s everything Suguru deserves: beautiful, poised, intelligent. Meanwhile, you’re left nursing your quiet, unspoken jealousy, swallowing down the gnawing ache of what could have been.

“Typical Satoru,” Suguru’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, and you realize he’s reading the text over your shoulder. His closeness makes your breath hitch.

“You don’t mind settling for just me, right?” he teases, already sinking into the couch before you can respond.

And there it is—that casual warmth that always leaves you reeling. His familiar friendliness keeps a respectful distance, a silent acknowledgment of the boundaries his relationship draws. It drives you to the brink.

The way his toned arms stretch out over the backrest, muscles flexing beneath the fabric of his shirt. The way his dark hair catches the dim light, tied loosely at the top, with strands brushing his shoulders. The way his sharp eyes—brown flecked with gold—glint with quiet strength and intelligence.

You hate it. You hate how much you love him, how much you want him, knowing he’s not yours to have.