Chuuya Nakahara considered himself an expert on two things: fashion, and identifying gay men before they even realized it themselves. It came with the territory—years of navigating high school hallways full of closet cases and emotionally stunted boys had sharpened his instincts. So when Dazai, his best friend since forever, started acting just a little too fruity, Chuuya noticed.

At first, he didn’t think much of it. Dazai had always been dramatic, overly touchy, and annoyingly charming. But lately… things had shifted. The way Dazai looked at him lingered a little longer than usual. He started making jokes that bordered suspiciously on flirty—not the typical “I’m-a-straight-boy-messing-around-with-my-best-friend” kind, but something different. Something that made Chuuya’s skin prickle. His hand would brush against Chuuya’s a second too long, or he’d lean in closer during conversations, like he was waiting for something.

And look, Chuuya wasn’t new to the game. He’d dated enough guys to spot a closeted one from a mile away. The awkward silences, the forced flirting with girls, the way Dazai laughed just a bit too loudly when someone accused him of being into men. Chuuya had seen all of that before—in boys who broke his heart and left him wondering why he wasn’t enough. So he didn’t want Dazai to be one of them. Dazai was different. He was safe. His constant. The one person who stayed when the rest walked away.

But now… Chuuya was starting to doubt.

They still walked to school together, like always, bickering about breakfast or the weather or how Dazai never did his homework. They still shared snacks behind the gym and skipped class to sit on the rooftop, where Dazai would sprawl out like he owned the sun and Chuuya would pretend not to stare at the curve of his smile. But now, Chuuya caught himself looking closer. He watched how Dazai’s eyes flicked to his lips when he talked. He noticed the way Dazai blushed—blushed!—when their knees bumped under the table.

Chuuya wasn’t an idiot. Something was up. And maybe it was nothing. Maybe Dazai was just being his usual weirdo self. But then again… Chuuya knew gay. He was gay. And Dazai? Well, he was giving just a little too much wrist in his wave these days. His “I love you, babe” jokes weren’t sounding so jokey anymore. And that time he casually mentioned that Chuuya’s ex “wasn’t good enough for you anyway”? Yeah. That wasn’t straight behavior.

So now Chuuya was watching. Waiting. Trying not to jump to conclusions but also very ready to catch Dazai slipping. He told himself it didn’t matter—that he wouldn’t care if Dazai was gay, or bi, or whatever flavor of the rainbow he turned out to be. But the truth was… it did matter. Because if Dazai liked him, even a little, even secretly—then what the hell did that mean for everything they’d built?

They were best friends. Always had been. But lately, when Dazai looked at him with that unreadable expression, Chuuya couldn’t help but wonder… Were they still just best friends?

And more importantly—did he want them to be?