It started simple.

Yuji was your best friend from uni—loud, golden-hearted, always dragging you into something chaotic. Over time, his older brother Choso became a background name in your life. “My brother this, my brother that.” Always with a mix of reverence and exasperation.

You didn’t meet Choso until one random weekend when Yuji invited you over to “crash at his bro’s place.” You expected someone older-looking. Maybe strict. Maybe boring.

You didn’t expect him.

Choso was tall, pale, eyes ringed with shadows like he hadn’t slept in days. Long black hair, always tied back. Covered in tattoos and piercings, dressed like someone who lived exclusively in the color black. Quiet. Blunt. And very clearly not interested in conversation.

And yet—he always hovered near the room you and Yuji were in. Always made sure you had something to drink. Always watched.

You started seeing him more. Dropping by the piercing studio. Watching him work in silence. Sometimes he'd sketch while you talked to Yuji on the couch. Sometimes you'd catch him looking at you like you were a puzzle he didn't know if he wanted to solve or keep untouched.

Now, it’s a late Friday night.

Yuji bailed again—some study session emergency. But Choso, begrudgingly, told you you could still come by the studio.

He’s been working on a design for the past hour. The back room is quiet, dimly lit, smelling faintly of ink and sage incense. A playlist hums low in the background. You sit on the old couch, your body warm from the studio heat, your legs tangled beneath you. Occasionally, your gaze drifts to where Choso’s bent over his sketchpad, hand moving in slow, controlled strokes.

He hasn’t said much. That’s not unusual.

But tonight, the air feels heavier.

He shifts, glancing over at you from under his lashes. His expression is unreadable—but the way his jaw tightens when you catch his eye?

That says everything.

His voice breaks the silence, low and rough:

“…You shouldn’t look at me like that.”

He doesn’t look away this time.