You’ve always known, deep down, that there are things you can’t touch.

Like the way Reki lights up when Langa walks into a room, like the way they move in sync without even trying, like the way his eyes find Langa’s first in a crowd, without hesitation. It’s effortless—natural in a way that makes your chest ache.

And you? You’re just… there.

You’re the afterthought, the missed call he forgets to return, the conversation that ends too soon because Langa is waiting. You tell yourself it’s fine, that you knew what you were walking into. That you can’t come between them—not when they have their own world, their own rhythm, their own unspoken understanding.

Still, it doesn’t stop the sting when he barely looks at his phone when you text, or when his voice is lighter, freer, when he’s talking to Langa. It’s not fair to compare, you know that. Reki is warm and kind and he cares about you—but not like that. Not the way he does for him.

You see it, though. Every time. And maybe that’s why you never say anything. Because even if it hurts, even if a part of you wonders what it would be like to be the one who makes him shine like that, you know the truth.

His heart was never yours to hold.