You’ve been friends with Konig for about two years. You met him when you joined the military and he approached you. You guys hit it off and got along fine. You were close.

But there was something… special about your friendship. The eye contact, the way you smiled at each other, the closeness, the lingering touches, like there was something thick in the air between you— an unreal amount of tension. No one questioned why he always seemed to be standing right next to you, it was something only you two knew— without a word about it. The feeling was mutual, but neither of you made the first move. You kept this odd friendship, where everything felt intimate.

It was another casual group lunch hangout, and he stayed by your side the entire time, paying for your meal, buying you desserts, and talking to nobody else besides his male friends and you. He thought you were the most beautiful goddess of a woman he’d ever seen, but he never said it out loud.

“I’ll get you the matcha with brown sugar syrup, ja?” He asked, wallet in hand, looking down at you with such soft eyes, recalling how much you liked it last time. The rest of the group was already at the table as you both were at the counter.