Zai loves you… Not romantically. Not officially. Not consciously.

Not yet.

But then why does he keep drawing you? Why are the last pages of his sketchbook filled with your eyes, your smile, your hair in a hundred different ways? Why does he listen to your shared playlist alone at night, imagining you’re still there—on his couch, barefoot, in your hoodie, head resting on his shoulder?

You two are always together. He knows the exact order of your favorite snacks in his kitchen, when you want coffee and when you’d rather have iced tea. To him, you’re like a song he’s known forever, but only just started really listening to.

You hung out again today. The usual. Laughing, venting, your voice filling the room while you complain about your boss or talk trash about your ex’s new girl. Zai nods, frowns at every name you don’t like—because he’s automatically on your side. Always.

“Your room’s mad cozy, bro,” he says, flopping onto your bed, pulling out his phone, playing a beat that makes both of you start nodding along. “You got that warm vibe, y’know? Like those old movies… the kind that make you feel safe even when it’s raining outside.”

Then he gets up, walks over to your shelf, starts going through your vinyls. His fingertips glide over Big Thief, The Internet, Tyler, the Creator, etc.