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basicallywhiterice · 4 years ago

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mood ring (vernon choi)

Pairing: Vernon (Hansol) Choi x reader

Genre: Angst, fluff, highschool!au, swimmer!au, childhood best friends to lovers

Summary: Your relationship with Vernon has always been blue: cool, calm, and relaxing. When it changes colors, your world turns upside down. Good thing Vernon’s here to help you navigate through it all.

Alternatively titled: Your love story with Vernon, told through your friendships (or: in which you really love your friends)

Word count: 21k

Warnings: cussing

a/n: This fic is my baby. These characters are my babies. Ask me about them here, or check out the hashtag ‘extras:mr’ for more! Crossposted on ao3 here!

(7:53 pm) jules vern(e): i just made it home and im pretty sure sofias eaten half of the ice cream already jules vern(e): ur lucky ur an only child you: I still have a ton left over if you run out you: The perks of having lactose-intolerant parents lol

Your phone buzzes with another incoming text from Vernon, but you drop it and focus on calming your erratic heartbeat. In order to compose yourself, your hand subconsciously flies to the base of your neck, where your fingers close around the most important piece of jewelry in your life.

It’s a mood ring from the mall. Circular, with color indicators wrapping around a metal band, it looks a little childish compared to everything else you wear. After eleven years, its colors only range from light pink to red, but you don’t mind.

You don’t mind because Vernon gave it to you.

You met Vernon on the first day of first grade. Two weeks later, once you declared that you were best friends, he gave you the mood ring while kneeling. A little weirded out by the possibility of him proposing, you panicked and ran away, but he caught up to you and explained that he tripped over his shoelaces and landed on one knee. (Even as a kid, Vernon was very on-brand.) So of course you accepted. Though the mood ring was too big for your six-year-old fingers, you looped it through a cord and wore it that way ever since.

In middle school, you met Joshua, and in high school, Tzuyu, Minghao, and Junhui joined your close-knit friend group. All six of you bonded over joining the swim team together in freshman year. Tzuyu was a welcome addition, and Minghao instantly clicked with you, while Junhui took a little longer to warm up to the trio consisting of you, Vernon, and Joshua.

And Vernon… Vernon is something else entirely.

That mood ring, solidifying him as a permanent fixture in your life, has accompanied you throughout your friendship with him, up until now, when you’ve realized: you like him. Really like him, as a best friend and so much more. You have no qualms accepting that, because it just makes sense after all the years you’ve spent with him, the way he looks at you when you have all his attention, his gaze focused enough to form a blush on your face.

You admitted it to yourself over the summer, two hours before he came home from a six-week summer program. He came straight to your house for dinner after he arrived, asking about your internship before enthusiastically launching into a story about his program. Later, he asked if you missed him, to which you replied with a smack on his arm and a muttered ‘shut up and tell me more about your roommate’s underground rap career’. He just laughed, reminding you of your mutual promise not to keep anything from each other, before you smacked him again, said yes, and made him continue talking about how Mark Lee (his roommate who happened to live in your state) held an impromptu concert during the program’s talent show due to popular demand.

There was nothing uniquely special about that moment, but if you weren’t a goner before, then you sure were after.

Your current, easygoing relationship with Vernon is going to change into something else, sooner or later, but you know each other so well that you’ll be friends first. You’ll always be friends first, and the strength of your bond can withstand any obstacles that might come in the way.

At least, that’s what you hope.

You’ve thought about what to do for a couple of months now, and you’ve decided not to wait for this change to come to you. No, you’re doing this on your own terms instead of sitting around and pining indefinitely.

Right now, it’s half an hour after your weekly Saturday hangout with Vernon—you churned homemade ice cream this time—and your time spent with him has strengthened your determination. You grab your phone, barely glancing at his latest texts, and hover over his contact, thumb wavering before determinedly pressing the video call button. When he picks up, you can barely hear him over the pounding in your ears. You have to set your phone down because your hands are shaking from your nerves. But still, you’re going through with this.

��Hey, Vernon? I have something to tell you…”

Vernon takes it with a surprising amount of maturity. He thanks you for confessing and being open with him, reassures you that you’ll always be friends, and… doesn’t outright reject you.

“I’m not opposed to trying and seeing if we can, y’know, date each other,” he tells you. “I just need time to think about this. It’s new to me. Does that make sense?”

You nod awkwardly and hang up soon after with the excuse of homework. It’s a flimsy excuse, and you’re sure Vernon can see through it, but he doesn’t object. And so you spend the rest of the weekend giving Vernon space, something that makes your text conversations stiff and your mind regretful.

On Monday morning, instead of picking Vernon up like normal, Joshua drives you to school. It’s not entirely an excuse to avoid Vernon, since you’re going to the library with Joshua later in the day to work on a Government and Politics project, but… actually, yeah, that’s exactly what it is. But you choose not to dwindle on that.

The rest of the day passes rather uneventfully. Vernon still sits next to you in fifth period Literature, and you manage to converse about the horrible math teacher you dealt with last year that he dealt with last period. But you both haven’t forgotten about your confession, and Vernon addresses it after swim practice.

He’s sitting on one of the benches near the pool’s entrance. “Hey, y/n. Can we talk?”

The October wind isn’t particularly chilly, but you stuff your hands in your cardigan’s pockets and hug it closer to you anyways. When you almost stumble, you focus on keeping your steps steady as you walk toward him. “What’s up?”

“So, I’m done thinking, and I decided that I wanna try, uh… taking you out, I guess is the term? And seeing if we’d be good at being more than friends?”

You’re expecting some sort of rejection, so Vernon’s words throw you off. “What? I… yeah, it would be nice to try that…”

Vernon pats the bench next to him, and you sit down beside him. “Before you decide, though, I think we should both be on the same page. So I want you to know that…” He rubs his hands on his shorts, then continues. “Towards the end of the summer, I told Tzuyu that I liked her.”

“Oh no,” you immediately say. Around that time, Tzuyu started dating Joshua, and you urged them both to make a move for an entire month before they finally got together. You had no idea Vernon was part of the equation.

“I know, it was like the day after they started dating, and I felt horrible once I found out. And now I’m pretty much over her, but I just wanted to let you know, in case that changes your mind.”

“Ah. What do you mean by you’re ‘pretty much over her’?” That wording throws you off a little, and you can’t decide what to do without knowing what it means.

“I mean that I’ve had a few months to get over her, and I’m pretty sure that I am, but I’m not 100% sure because feelings are messy, you know? I know that sounds bad, but the way I felt about her back then is totally different from how I feel about her now.”

He’s right: it does sound bad. But you figure it can’t hurt to try being more than friends, and besides, you’ll have the choice to end things if you think it’s a bad idea. “I believe you. So… if we’re gonna do this, what’s our relationship going to be called? And we’ll be open with each other to see if we want to continue, right? And even if we end this, we’ll still be friends, won’t we?”

“Of course we’ll be open with each other, and of course we’ll always be friends. And… I think since we’re not in a full-fledged relationship, we’ll be friends, right? We’ll still do things as friends, since that’s what we’ve always been, but we can change the label at any time.”

Friends. It makes sense to start out with low commitment, but a small part of your brain was hoping for something more. Still, you can’t think of a good label for an experimentation stage, so you go along with it. “Ok. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Y/n, you trust me, right?”

“I do! I just don’t want you to lead me on or anything. I feel like...” You lick your lips. “What if you’re not over Tzuyu and you’re trying to move on by using me? That’s not going to work.”

He reaches out, hand brushing against yours as it inches up your arm. He squeezes your elbow. “I totally understand your worries, and I can tell you it’s not like that. I want to try this, and I would never use you like that. You’re important to me. You’re my friend. I promise.” Lifting his right hand, he draws an “x” over his chest as he says, “Cross my heart and everything.”

“Alright. As long as you’re ok with this.” You nod slowly.

“I am.” Slowly, he retracts his hand until he holds your right hand. “Is this ok?”

You nod and he squeezes it gently. You hope he doesn’t notice how shaky your hand gets from that simple action. The two of you sit there in silence, listening to some teachers driving away in their cars, until Tzuyu exits the pool building.

She glances down at your hands and does a once-over. “Hey guys. Is the swim team going to get a second couple?”

Vernon blushes, loosening his grip on your hand and stammering. “Haha, we’re, uh, not sure yet.”

She raises an eyebrow, then walks in front of you. “Well, still.” Patting your shoulder with the tips of her fingers, she beams at Vernon. “You guys are cute,” she says, ruffling his damp hair. Vernon turns even redder, and you feel like the world’s biggest idiot for not anticipating this.

At that moment, Joshua leaves the building, strolling up to Tzuyu and planting a kiss on her forehead. “Hey.” She giggles. Vernon stares. Turning his attention toward you, Joshua asks, “Hey, y/n. You ready to go to the library?”

“Yeah.” You slip your hand away from Vernon’s and stand, grabbing your backpack. “Lead the way.”

You say your goodbyes and follow Joshua to his car, eyes lingering on Vernon and Tzuyu walking to the bus stop. He’s still red in the face, and she seems not entirely displeased with that. You look away.

As you walk, you ask how Joshua’s mom’s doing, and he continues talking about his family. When he pauses to start his car, you take the opportunity to pull out your phone and text Vernon.

(5:06 pm) you: You don’t have to do this Vern, I understand you: We might be better off not trying this

(5:09 pm) jules vern(e): i want to jules vern(e): i promise jules vern(e): its just so different. help me adjust?

(5:02 pm) nerdier than thou: Woah dude are you and Vernon finally getting together (delivered)

“Are you and Vernon dating?”

Based on Joshua’s sideways glances, his question has been on the tip of his tongue for the past forty minutes before it tumbles out onto your lap. That’s where you stare, unable to meet his gaze without blushing or grinning like a lunatic.

“I don’t know… sort of, but not really.”

He stops typing, pushing his laptop away. “What do you mean, sort of? Either you are, or you’re not.”

You turn your head toward him. When you don’t find any traces of judgment on his face, you shrug. “We haven’t… defined anything, so I guess not.”

“Hm. But you want to date him, don’t you?”

You can never lie to Joshua. “How long have you known?”

He just laughs. “Probably before you did, to be honest. I could definitely tell by the end of last year. But yeah, you guys are cute together, and I hope you define it soon.”

“I hope so too, Josh. I can talk to you about this, right? The last time I went through this was back in ninth grade with Samuel.” Samuel moved away at the end of ninth grade, long after you split up. You knew you were better off as friends, and it just felt right once your relationship was no longer romantic. Even so, it still hurt when he admitted he had a crush on Jina when you broke up. You don’t blame him—she was pretty and friendly to everyone, including Samuel.

Still. That was in ninth grade, and it doesn’t bother you anymore, but that’s exactly what you’re worried about with Vernon.

Joshua snaps you out of your reverie. “Of course, I’ve been asking you for relationship advice too, haven’t I?”

“Oh yeah, how are you and Tzuyu doing?” You don’t think it’s your place to directly ask him how he feels about Tzuyu and Vernon, so you settle on a more innocuous question. This way, you figure, Joshua chooses how much he’s willing to share with you.

“We’re doing great,” he says, and then he stops and grins as a blush creeps up his cheeks. Before you can tease him for being whipped, he hurries on. “Um, it’s not perfect—since, y’know, life! And stress! But we’re working on it together.” His lovestruck smile returns in full force and he ducks his head.

“Aww, cute. You guys are lucky to have a relationship like that.” With Joshua’s words, your doubts about how Vernon feels about Tzuyu are somewhat allayed, and you make a note not to bring it up with Joshua again. If Joshua’s happily working on it together with Tzuyu in an actual, defined relationship, you and Vernon can surely do the same.

Joshua clears his throat, though his blush remains on his face. “Anyways, we should get done with the last few slides for our project, since they’re closing soon. Then you can ask me anything, or you can just talk about your feelings and I’ll listen.”

“Bro… thank you.”

He laughs. “No problem… bro.”

An hour later, after you’re done eating dinner at Joshua’s house, you settle down to ask for situationship advice—you’re not planning on bogging him down with every detail, though, since he’s so close to Vernon; Mina’s your go-to friend about all things Vernon-related. Before you begin, you both get a notification from your swim team groupchat for seniors.

[the six senior citizens of the swim squad]

(7:19 pm) chewy granola bar: Here’s the schedule for this week’s meet chewy granola bar: *1 image attached* ac(t)orman: The first meet of this season! nerdier than thou: Thank you, team captain Tzuyu and team captain Junhui chewy granola bar: No problem, team member Joshua nerdier than thou: ❤️

(7:20 pm) OctOpOdes: please stop, team captain Tzuyu and team member Joshua nerdier than thou: No❤️ chewy granola bar: My apologies, team member Minghao chewy granola bar: Ok why are we doing this team member whoever stuff nerdier than thou: Why not OctOpOdes: also we need a better gc name you: You were the one who made it, and you rejected ‘the six senior sSsitizens of the swim squad’, MEANghao OctOpOdes: i pretend i do not see it ac(t)orman: What about the 3 musketeers, but like, doubled ac(t)orman: I am hackerman ac(t)orman: [H]ac(t)[ke](o)rman chewy granola bar: Please stick with ac(t)orman, I had a stroke reading that

(7:21 pm) you: Then that would be 8 people, not 6, bc a fourth dude joined in the book nerdier than thou: That would describe 8 people because someone joins the 3 Musketeers, making them a group of 4 you: Great minds think alike ^^ ac(t)orman: Wait u guys actually did the summer reading? jules vern(e): i vote for ‘the 3 musketeers + 2 nerds’ in that case jules vern(e): u guys can guess who the nerds are :)))

(7:22 pm) OctOpOdes: seconded ac(t)orman: Thirded chewy granola bar: Fourthed! nerdier than thou: FIFTHED you: ANDDDDD SOLD TO THE GENTLEMAN WITH THE (ugly) RED SUNGLASSES jules vern(e): HEY that was a fashion statement

(7:23 pm) OctOpOdes: it wasn’t a very good one OctOpOdes: those sunglasses were an atrocity, sorry vern you: Seconded

*jules vern(e) named the group ‘the 3 musketeers + 2 haters’*

jules vern(e): haters gonna hate jules vern(e): also ouch y/n, i was gonna let u turn me into an eboy on saturday, and sofias giving me her black nail polish, but i guess ill tell her u canceled you: Noooooo omg your sunglasses were the pinnacle of fashion you: I’m sowwy 🥺👉👈

(7:24 pm) nerdier than thou: Please stop, team member y/n

Sadly, the universe will not let you avoid Vernon forever, and you find yourself picking him up for school on Wednesday morning. Awkward silence descends after you greet each other. After what feels like an eternity of both of you sneaking glances at each other and looking away, you finally speak up.

“How are you?”

“I’m good. Uh, Mark Lee goes to the high school for our meet on Friday, so he’s gonna stay and watch us afterschool.”

“Oh cool, I can finally meet the legendary rap god.”

Vernon chuckles. “Yeah, he’s a great dude. How are you?”

“I’m excited too.” When the car grows silent once again, you brace yourself and ask, “How are you feeling about… us?”

“It’s nice to do this together, as friends, instead of being super uncertain.”

Very calmly, you grip the steering wheel tighter. There it is, the word ‘friends’, serving as a painful reminder that despite whatever it is you’re doing, Vernon’s probably never going to see you as something more. Still, you manage to keep your voice cheery. “Yep. Great friends. Hahaha.”

You stop at a red light and glance over at Vernon, who grins toothily. “Yeah, I’m glad we’re starting with some sense of familiarity. You know, I was talking to Tzuyu about this yesterday, and she agreed with that. She gives really good advice too. I felt so much better after talking to her.”

Very calmly, you press the brake harder. After witnessing the effect Tzuyu had on him on Monday—and suspecting that maybe, just maybe, some of her actions are meant to get that reaction from him—you could do without hearing Vernon gush about hanging out with her. Still, you try to give her the benefit of the doubt. “Does Josh know you guys hung out?”

“Yeah, they were going to go to one of the lakes together so she could be near the water but not swimming in it, since she’s nervous about signing next month—y’know, for college scholarships and stuff. But then Joshua had a last-minute choir practice for an audition, so I went with her instead. It was so relaxing. We were there for a couple of hours, and she asked if I wanted to do it again on Saturday.”

Very calmly, you almost crash the car. Saturdays are your days together, and despite how childish it sounds, you don’t want to give that up. Ever. Still, it’s not like Tzuyu knows about this, and Vernon’s free to choose how he spends his time. You try to keep a neutral tone as you ask, “Sounds fun. What time are you going there Saturday?”

“Dude, I’m not going on Saturday. Saturdays are for us, silly. Plus, I’m not giving up that eboy transformation.”

The light turns green, and you press the gas pedal, but you’re actually calm this time. “Wow, you only care about getting a makeover. I see how it is,” you joke, fighting down a wide smile and biting back a giggle as you slump back in relief.

“Oh no, you found out that our decade of friendship was all for an eboy transformation. Help, what do I do now?”

The rest of the car ride is filled with jokes and earnest conversation. You’ve successfully dissipated the awkward silence, and you don’t fall back into it at lunch, in fifth period Lit, or afterschool at swim practice. Tzuyu’s still a little too friendly with him, you think as she rests her hand on his shoulder while laughing, but it’s small enough for you to brush it off. Plus, Joshua’s there laughing along as well. You do your very best to get over yourself.

The car ride back home with Vernon is no longer awkward, and he even clasps your hand and squeezes it before exiting your car.

You drive all the way home with an uncontrollable grin on your face.

(2:01 pm) OctOpOdes: some rando dmed me a month ago asking if you’re single and if you don’t hurry up i’m giving them your number you: You would never, octopus boy OctOpOdes: 😑 you’re right OctOpOdes: but still, kindly hurry tf up you: Also, since when did ~I~ get creepy fans OctOpOdes: it’s from the ootd you were last month OctOpOdes: now hurry up

(2:02 pm) you: I’m literally one minute late OctOpOdes: not anymore you: A bit fussy for someone with 60k followers, aren’t we OctOpOdes: still 60k more than you

Vernon can pull off the eboy look, but Minghao is an actual eboy in 30% of his Instagram posts. And he absolutely owns that look—you’re willing to bet that at least ten thousand of his followers are active eboy enthusiasts. He recruits you to photograph a fall photoshoot over the last weekend of November. You’re a sucker for his aesthetic and he’s no slouch with a camera, so who are you to say no?

After you’re done capturing shots of him in front of your house on the sidewalk, he convinces you to pose with him for a few pictures as well. You then relocate to a nearby forest that Minghao’s fond of. There’s one family hiking in the distance that almost photobombs him once or twice, but all in all, it goes pretty well.

You’re no stranger to being behind the camera, but when Minghao instructs you on how to pose—an extended arm here, a bent leg there—you’re reminded how stiff you feel in front of it. As always, though, Minghao keeps encouraging you, and you relax once he makes you laugh. And, as always, he ends up getting caught up in the details.

“Hey Minghao, I think we should wrap this up,” you suggest as you crouch into a new pose.

“Yeah, one moment. Let me get the lighting right for this shot.”

“I’m sure it looks great. I think we should stop before you run out of storage.”

“Yeah, lean forward a little.”

“Minghao!” You do as he says, but get up and walk forward immediately after he’s gotten a few shots. He gently releases the camera and holds his hands up in mock surrender. Per tradition, you find a nearby place to sit—in this case, a picnic table—and go through the pictures together, selecting a few final shots for the gram.

You sit on the tabletop, scanning Minghao’s camera roll and pointing out the pictures you like as he nods and listens. He sends you ten of your favorite solo shots. Afterward, he puts his camera away and you just talk.

When there’s a pause in the conversation, he asks, “Have you talked to Tzuyu lately?”

Damn, he’s observant. You haven’t told him anything about the Vernon/Tzuyu/you situation in order to preserve your friend group, but he still caught on. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Just curious. You’re usually stuck by her side at swim meets, but for the past few meets, you seemed kinda… I don’t know, indifferent? If that’s the word? You know, you always check up on me, but you haven’t been doing that for yourself recently. I don’t want you to neglect your friends because of stress. Not to be a hypocrite, though.”

You laugh at his last sentence. “Yeah, I’m just worried about early decision results.” That’s not a lie—you’ll find out your college early decision results in a couple of weeks, and if you get rejected, you’ll have to slog through piles of work for regular decision applications. Not to mention, that would mean rejection from your dream school. But college isn’t the only thing on your mind, even though Tzuyu’s behavior has long since stopped making you worry, and you’re slowly reconnecting with her.

“Ugh, why did you have to remind me?” Minghao also applied early decision, hoping to get into NYU. You’re amazed at how he found the time to craft such a compelling application with all the dance practices, Instagram photoshoots, swim training, and homework crowding up his schedule, on top of achieving a semi-healthy sleep schedule. What a mad lad.

“You mean, remind you of the inevitable acceptance letter you’re getting in a few weeks?”

He just sighs, leaning back to lie down on the table. You follow suit, lying down next to him, staying quiet until he speaks up. “I’m just worried. I know they only showed me the good parts when I toured their campus, but it was so fucking awesome. It felt like the perfect fit for me. And I know you can succeed no matter where you go to college, but… I want to go there so bad. And they’re in NYC. And they have a campus in Shanghai. Shanghai!”

You can’t help but chuckle. NYU’s Shanghai campus is something Minghao’s managed to get you excited about over the last few months, and you’re not even applying there. “I know, Hao. But I’m so proud of you no matter what happens. I know how amazing of a person you are, and I’ve spent years with you compared to the minutes admission officers get. Plus, if they somehow end up rejecting you, that says more about their foolishness than your worth. And if that happens, you can always go to a different undergrad school and get your master’s or doctor’s there later—and in Shanghai too, if you still want to go there. You have so many options.”

A puff of air escapes from his lips, but he grudgingly says, “You’re right. That applies to you too, got it? I’m horrible with motivational speeches, so just remember that for yourself.”

“That’s a lie, you big softy.” You turn your head to see a grin creeping up his face, and you gently shove his shoulder. “And what you said earlier—remembering to take care of yourself—that applies to you too. Junhui tells me you’ve been scheduling extra dance practices and the troupe is about to revolt.”

“They would never,” he mutters. “They love me too much.”

“If you love them, give them a break. C’mon, captain.”

He groans half-heartedly, so you can tell he’s thinking about it. You let him weigh his options in the calm silence that follows, closing your eyes and trying to mold into the much-too-hard tabletop. You give up when you hear Minghao’s jacket rustle as he sits up. “You may or not be right,” he admits as you sit up and slide off the table.

“Oh, please. I’m always right. Is it too cold for froyo?” you ask as he stands up. “Or do you want to get something warm from one of the bakeries downtown?”

“The place with the mini pies is really good, and they always smell delicious. You’ll never catch them lacking. Oh, but the Dutch bakery is good too.”

“We have time, we can go to both.”

Minghao carefully packs up his camera as you try to convince him to get TikTok (“TikTok? Isn’t it getting banned? Besides, the eboys on there have weak fashion games. I’m not gonna bother.”) and he drives you both downtown. You regret leaving the camera in his car when you find aesthetic scenes to photograph, but you make do with your phone and send some of them to Tzuyu for the school newspaper. Minghao also sends her pictures of the bakeries and pastries, but you accidentally end up spamming her with random, unusable pictures. You can practically feel her exasperation through the phone, but she’s obligated to skim through all your pictures since you’re the photography editor.

On December 15, Minghao gets his acceptance letter the same week you get yours. You’re in his living room when he gets it, and after much hugging and celebration and well-deserved congratulations, you swear you see a tear of joy escape his eye. It’s almost the exact same reaction you had, and the realization makes you smile.

Minghao calls off his hip-hop dance troupe’s extra practice (that he scheduled) and celebrates. Junhui and Tzuyu have time to come over, and the four of you collectively relax, knowing the stress of college admissions is behind you.

And, you think as Minghao waxes poetic about NYU’s campus and the urban life, it’s the perfect conclusion to your college-application frenzy and the perfect beginning for everything that comes after.

Your Saturday hangouts with Vernon have slowly but surely turned into friend-dates. Every week, you do something new—so far, you’ve gone to a pumpkin patch, a skating rink, and a hiking trail. You even took him thrifting for the first time, after you learned Minghao had a last-minute dance troupe practice on the Sunday you planned to thrift with him. Last week, you both had tests to study for, so you just worked in your living room. After dinner, you watched the sunset together, huddled together beneath two fleece blankets. You remember gazing up at the sky, streaked with purple, and wondering: where does this relationship stand? It’s neither a friendly blue nor a romantic pink. Is this all you can ever be?

And then Vernon laced his fingers through yours and pointed to a cloud that looked like the person in The Scream. Since then, holding hands has been a normal occurrence instead of one that’s rarely—and awkwardly—approached.

This week, you’re watching the Nutcracker ballet that Mina’s in as the Sugar Plum Fairy. Vernon holds your hand again, and thankfully, it doesn’t clam up this time. He’s still holding it after the show ends, as you congratulate Mina backstage and give her a bouquet of flowers. “Mina, that was so good! I can’t believe you’re not an actual fairy.”

“Aw, thank you!” She drops her voice and whispers, “Premarital hand holding, yuck,” and you gently poke her side. Letting go of Vernon’s hand, you give her a big hug, which is difficult considering how wide her skirt is, and mutter an embarrassed ‘stop it’ in her ear before stepping away.

“Yeah Mina, you were amazing.” Vernon opts for a one-armed side hug after seeing you struggle to avoid messing up her skirt. “You looked so graceful when most people would’ve fallen on their face.”

“Thank you so much! Let’s hope I don’t fall on my face for tomorrow’s performance too. My parents are going to be recording that.”

“Hey. You don’t have to worry about that. You were absolutely phenomenal, and it’s obvious all your practice paid off.” You give her another hug. This time, she leans forward and flattens down the front of her tutu to make it easier. “I’m so proud of you, girl. Hey, do you want me to take some pictures of you?”

“Yeah, that would be awesome. Vernon, would you mind holding this beautiful bouquet for me?” She hands the flowers to Vernon, then leads you to an area with better lighting.

After a few individual shots, you ask the Mouse King to take a group picture of you three. Mina goes back to the dressing room to change, while you and Vernon wait for her near the entrance.

Vernon examines the bouquet, passing it from hand to hand, then asks, “Hey, how come you never get me flowers?”

You raise one shoulder in a shrug. “I didn’t know you wanted them. I’ll get you a flowerpot the day after Valentine’s Day or something.”

He tilts his head to one side, moving his attention from the flowers to you. “Why the day after?”

“Because Valentine’s Day is a shit holiday that shouldn’t exist. It shouldn’t be the only day you appreciate your loved ones, and you don’t need to celebrate it if you’re in a healthy relationship. I guess it’d be sweet if the consumerist part didn’t ruin it.”

Vernon gapes at you for a second before bursting into laughter. “Oh man, my mom thinks the same way, so my parents always go on a date the weekend after Valentine’s Day instead of on V-Day. And my dad tells us to buy candy the day after during the clearance sales. I’m just surprised hearing the exact same idea come from a different person, you know?”

“Huh, we just don’t really celebrate it at all. Plus, we never got candy after we stopped having class parties in elementary school because my mom says it’s too much sugar. You better get me discounted candy after Valentine’s Day, then,” you playfully demand, jabbing a finger into his shoulder.

“I was planning on it even before you said that.” He grins and passes the bouquet into his left hand, reaching up and lacing his fingers together with yours. You squeeze his hand, then take a deep breath.

“Yeah, so how have things been going with Tzuyu?” It’s an abrupt change in conversation, but as you wait for him to answer, you don’t dread his answer like you did a month ago. Nothing about Tzuyu’s actions could be even misconstrued as flirty anymore, and Vernon doesn’t cast her those lingering glances that you always turned a blind eye to. Your conversations with her are back to normal, and you feel a lot better about your friendship. Things are great, Tzuyu-wise. You just need confirmation from Vernon, and luckily, you’re no longer afraid of what he might say.

“Oh, it’s great. I’ve been talking to her a lot more,” he says and you think yeah, you sure have, but it’s not accompanied with any jealousy or bitterness. It’s more of an objective observation than anything else. “And because I know her a lot better now, I only see her as a friend. It’s like, now that I don’t have to guess what some parts of her personality are like, she’s just a regular person to me instead of someone to crush on.”

“That’s good to hear.” When you look up at Vernon, he’s grinning at you in the way that never fails to make your heart flutter. You don’t even know why it does, seeing as how you were just talking about his romantic attachment to another girl, but Vernon’s smile is unpredictable that way. “Yeah, so. Yeah.”

“Yeah?” His grin melts into a smirk, and you roll your eyes.

“Stop making fun of me, it’s not like you talk any better.”

“I’m not good with words with you, you mean. I’m great with everyone else.”

“Oh, really. What makes me so special, hmm?” You smile sweetly at him, but you’re surprised when his cheeks turn red and he looks away.

He lifts his right hand toward his neck, but stops when he realizes he’s holding the bouquet. “A lot of things,” he mumbles, still not looking at you. What on Earth. He clears his throat. “So what was your favorite dance… in there?”

You figure as long as you’re making progress in your relationship (is it even a relationship?), you can deal with some awkwardness from Vernon. You let him drop the subject. “You know I’m gonna say Mina’s. What kind of a friend do you think I am?”

You discuss the ballet for a few more minutes, stopping when Mina exits. You help carry her costume bag and Vernon carries her makeup case, leaving her to hold her bouquet of flowers. Vernon points to your car in the parking lot, and you merge with the crowd of people heading in that direction.

“So, Mina, are you just focusing on your Juilliard audition after the Nutcracker is done? Or do you have dances for competition team too?”

“I still have dances for the team, but I’ll spend a lot more time preparing for the audition. It’s still highkey nervewracking, though. It’s so competitive.”

“Hey, when the San Francisco Ballet is your backup plan, you know you’re doing things right.”

“You make it sound like I’m getting a lead role or something.” She waves it off, but she looks pleased, and that makes you pleased. “Anyways, how have you guys been?”

You’re a few yards away from your car, and you fumble with your keys and open the trunk. Vernon helps you place and arrange Mina’s belongings while answering, “Y/n’s been roasting the shit out of my college essays, but other than that, life’s chill.”

“Hey!” you protest. “My suggestions aren’t that bad, and besides, you asked for it!”

“Listen to her,” Mina says. “She knows her shit.”

“Up top!” You high five her and Vernon groans, muttering about regretting saying ‘up top’ so much in sophomore year. Two years later, he still cringes whenever you say that phrase. You’ll never let him live it down.

Once you’ve settled down in your car, you search for nearby hipster cafes after Mina admits she forgot to bring snacks, needs food, and wants to adhere to her performance-day diet. As Vernon reasons, “A lot of hipsters are probably vegan, so hipster cafes should have healthy food,” and you can’t argue with that logic. Really, you and Vernon should know where to go, after being swimmers for so long and learning about different athletic diets, but the two of you have never been too serious about it.

After Mina’s recharged, you head to an art museum. Other than getting aesthetic inspiration and generally enjoying the artwork, Mina’s also convinced you to check out a Japanese-American artist’s new exhibit. Exploring the museum requires a lot of walking, but it’s certainly less demanding than ice skating, which she had originally suggested before realizing how tiring that would be on top of a weekend of ballet performances.

When she returns home for dinner, she pulls you aside as Vernon walks ahead with her costumes and cases. “Dude, I didn’t feel like I was third-wheeling at all today, which was great, but the way Vernon looks at you makes me feel like a third wheel at the same time. Does that make sense?”

“I… what?” You play off your flustered state by pretending to check her temperature. “Mina, are you sick? Did you overexert yourself today? Is that why you’re being weird?”

She smacks your shoulder, before sing-songing, “You know I’m right. I’m always right. In fact, I might even forgive you for all the premarital hand holding you were doing today, since that proves my point.” With that, she skips off, tugging you forward. Your heart lurches forward similarly when you see Vernon smiling back at you, waiting for you to catch up.

You hope Mina’s right. At the very least, she’s right about the premarital hand holding.

(3:49 pm) you: Bang’s room is locked you: Wya

(3:50 pm) you: Ohhh you’re in the auditorium that makes sense ac(t)orman: Bruh you: I am hackerman ac(t)orman: U couldnt hack ur way out of an unlocked computer ac(t)orman: Cmon, warmups are abt to start and Bang hates it when ppl walk in during them

It’s the second week after winter break, and the high school theater is already preparing for their spring performance, Shrek The Musical. Apparently, it was Junhui’s idea to perform this in order to showcase their range after they performed The Mental State, a heavy play dealing with mental disorders, in the fall. But Junhui ended up getting cast as Lord Farquaad, so you think he had other reasons for wanting this musical.

After you enter the auditorium and settle down in a plush seat near the back, Mrs. Bang, the theater teacher, starts warmups. You tune them out as you slip on a pair of headphones and start your homework. Half an hour later, Junhui comes by and drags you to the stage when the cast takes a break. You chat with Seokmin, who’s casted as Shrek, before practice resumes.

As soon as Mrs. Bang announces the end of practice, the room descends into loud chaos and you give up on studying for the time being. You wait for Junhui to pack up, and the two of you head outside to the parking lot.

“Hey, my mom just texted me to pick up some things from the Asian market for dinner.” You say as you unlock your car. He shoots you a thumbs-up, then pulls out his sunglasses.

At the Asian market, Junhui leaves you in the snack aisle when he remembers his instant ramen stash is running low. As you browse through the Hi-Chew and try to remember how many packages of haw flakes you have left at home, you notice a girl standing a few feet away from you. Oddly enough, she looks familiar…

“Somi? Is that you?”

She turns around. “Y/n?”

“Hey, it is you! What brings you here?” You met Somi at a photography competition last year, and you still keep in touch with her. She lives a few hours away, and you can’t think of why she’s in town.

“Hey! I’m doing a photoshoot for a client here, and I’m just stocking up on snacks before I begin. I can’t survive without Pocky,” she says, lifting and shaking her Pocky container.

“Wow, go secure that bag. Congrats, girl,” you say, fist-bumping her right as Junhui drags Vernon into the snack aisle.

“Y/n, guess who I found!” Junhui slows to a stop when he sees Somi, just as Vernon says, “Oh, hey, Somi! What are you doing here?”

“Wait, how do you know him?” you ask her.

“How do you know him? Small world, huh.”

Vernon laughs, drawing your attention back to him. “I know Somi because our parents are friends,” he explains. “And y/n and I go to the same school. We’re friends. Pretty cool, huh?” You quickly look away from him, trying to quash your growing disappointment by focusing on Somi instead.

“Right, speaking of friends, this is Junhui. Unless you’ve met him already, too?”

“Nah. Nice to meet you, Junhui.” He gives her a nod of acknowledgment, and then she says, “It was such a nice surprise seeing you guys here! But I’ve gotta run, since I start in ten minutes. I’m driving home right after I’m done, but if I ever come back and have extra time I’ll be sure to tell you.”

“For sure, we should definitely hang out when you have time.”

“Yeah, definitely,” Vernon agrees. Against your better judgment, you feel a surge of warmth when Vernon wraps an arm around your shoulder. “Be sure to let us know, ok?”

“Okey-dokey. Well, see you guys!”

All three of you wave goodbye to her. You wait for Vernon to remove his hand, but he doesn’t, so you shuffle out of his grasp as discreetly as you can, pretending to scan the shelves. “Let me find one more thing, Jun. Did you get your ramen?”

“Yeah, that’s actually where I saw Vernon.” He dumps a pile of instant ramen packs into your basket, and you wrinkle your nose at the sheer amount.

“Seriously? At this rate, you should get some actual noodles so your arteries don’t clog up with preservatives or something. I dunno, I hate science.”

Vernon snorts, and the sound almost makes you drop your packet of shrimp crackers that you finally decided to get for Junhui. Jeez, you really shouldn’t be this jumpy. Maybe indirect rejection from Vernon makes you jittery, or something. Whatever. “If that does end up happening, he won’t decompose for a few centuries.”

“Damn, okay then. If you insist.”

And then Vernon’s holding your hand as you go back to the noodles aisle and you can’t find it in you to resist. For now, at least.

After you check out and return to your car, you give Junhui the shrimp crackers and start driving.

“Oh, thanks. You know, I was actually eating a pack of these last night when my dad called.” Junhui’s dad works in Shenzhen, China, and he only comes back a couple of times every year. It’s no secret that Junhui’s missed him ever since he had to move five years ago, and it’s more evident than normal on nights like these when his mom has to work extra hours.

“Aw, tell him I said hi the next time he calls. He’s coming back for Chinese New Year, right?”

“Of course. Uh. Also, um.” He clears his throat, and you can hear him shift in his seat.

“What’s up? I’m all ears if you wanna talk.” Unlike Joshua (and, increasingly, Vernon), you never have to push Junhui to reveal his thoughts—he tells you if and when he’s ready, and coaxing (or lack thereof) has little to no effect.

“My dad’s been looking for jobs here ever since he felt like he was high enough on the corporate ladder. He had a few interviews, and thinks he has a pretty good chance of getting at least one offer,” he reveals hesitantly. You don’t understand why.

“Dude, that’s great news! You’ll get to see him so much more—oh.” Now you realize why he doesn’t sound as happy as you’d expect. Junhui’s going to college out-of-state, across the country. He’s not exactly going to be at home every day, and will likely continue to see his dad through FaceTime instead of in real life.

“Yeah. It’s just…” he sighs. “I’m happy that he’ll live with my mom again and that he’ll be closer to me, but I just feel so ungrateful for not being more excited. I haven’t told anyone else about this yet, too. I mean, everything has to be confirmed before I can say for sure, but like, he’s pretty far in the interview process.”

“Hey, I get that. It’s not like you’re legally obligated to feel super happy about this. And I’m sure your dad will find the right job for him, and that things will work out. It’ll be a step up from right now, right?”

“Yeah. I’m happy that he’s moving back. I just don’t know what the future’s gonna be like. And I feel like I’m missing out on seeing him, even though I’ll be seeing him more.”

“It’s okay. You’re allowed to feel more than one emotion about this, you know.”

“I suppose so. I’ll figure it out eventually. Anyways, my mom texted me saying that she was gonna get home at 11 instead of 10, in case you wanted to know,” he says, popping a shrimp cracker into his mouth and signalling the end of the conversation about his dad. You're not worried, though—you know he’s not emotionally constipated and that he’ll talk to his parents about his thoughts.

“Oh, do you want to stay after 9:30?” you ask as you stop at a red light.

“Sure, if you guys are okay with it,” he mumbles through a half-chewed chip while making obnoxious smacking noises.

You reach over and shove his shoulder. “Gross. And yeah, we’re cool with it. But you have got to chew with your damn mouth closed.”

He doesn’t. You grab a chip from his bag and chuck it at him. That does the trick, although he throws it right back at you. The light turns green before you can pick it up and toss it, and you press the gas pedal with a sigh.

It’s not an annoyed sigh, though. It’s the kind Junhui releases when Minghao insists on practicing alone at the studio on nights like these, the type that says ‘god damn, I love you, but I worry about the two brain cells we’re sharing sometimes’.

You have no trouble with those types of sighs. But recently, you’ve been bottling up the ones that arise from uncertainty and hesitation around Vernon.

The sound of Junhui crunching down on another chip in his open-mouthed glory draws you to the present. Hey, it could be worse. At least your sighs don’t drive you crazy like Junhui’s purposeful bad etiquette does.

(2:46 pm) jules vern(e): hey ru busy rn jules vern(e): or should i wait and come by later

(2:48 pm) you: I have to finish my homework but you can come over jules vern(e): :DD jules vern(e): slacker jules vern(e): also can u help me with smth when i get there

(2:49 pm) you: … Next time wait until I agree to call me a slacker jules vern(e): so thats a yes?? you: 🙄🙄 jules vern(e): thank youuuuuu

You don’t know what you were expecting, but it most definitely wasn’t for Vernon to show up with a bag of hair products, asking you to bleach his hair as soon as his mom drives away.

“Please? You said yes, you know.”

You close the door behind him, resisting the urge to bang your head against the wood. “Are you kidding me? Your mom’s gonna kill me. Your dad’s gonna kill me! You cannot be serious.”

“Relax.” He pokes his head into your living room to greet your parents before returning his attention to you. “My mom said I could—she drove me here, for goodness’ sake—and she wanted to bleach it herself but I felt like that wouldn’t be as fun as having you help me.”

“You want to risk hair damage for the sake of having fun?”

He sighs. “We researched this pretty thoroughly, and you’re careful enough not to fry my hair. Besides, I only want to lighten my hair a little, so I’m planning on doing a milder bleach bath. Here, we made an entire Google Doc about the procedure.” He unlocks his phone and you skim over the document, relaxing when you see a bulleted list on how to prevent hair damage.

“Well, alright. You have planned out how to protect your hair when you swim, right?”

“Of course. Go down to page four.”

“Jeez, you really thought this through. I’m impressed.”

He wraps you in a bone-crushing hug, ruffling your hair while saying, “Have some faith in me, alright?” Before you get the chance to catch your breath, he grabs your hand and pulls you into your room. “Which bathroom should we use?”

“Keep your voice down!” you hiss. “My parents are right there!” He just laughs and settles down at your desk, sorting through his assorted hair products. “What made you want to do this all of a sudden?”

Lifting one shoulder in a half shrug, he says, “Why not?” in the typical Vernon fashion that you just can’t argue with.

He’s got a point though. “You’re lucky. I wish my parents would let me dye my hair, but I’m waiting until college so they can’t see unless I FaceTime them.”

“Ooh, someone’s feeling rebellious.”

You shove his shoulder. “You’re one to talk. C’mon, let’s get started.”

Vernon mixes the bleach bath in your bathroom, and you apply it once he’s done. While you wait for it to work its magic, you half-heartedly work on your homework back in your room—a difficult task, seeing as how much of your attention Vernon takes away. You’re in the middle of watching a TikTok dance tutorial when you get a text from Tzuyu.

(3:27 pm) chewy granola bar: Hey do you have a picture of the DNA assignment for bio chewy granola bar: I think I accidentally left it at Joshua’s house and he’s not home right now

(3:28 pm) you: 😱 Quite scandalous Ms. Chou chewy granola bar: It’s not like that skjflaskf stop ittttt you: I’m kidding, yeah I’ll send it to you you: I have answers for about half of it if you want to do the other half

(3:30 pm) you: *1 image attached* chewy granola bar: Ty! chewy granola bar: Yeah I’ll send you my answers when I’m done chewy granola bar: It’ll probably be after dinner chewy granola bar: I have to get through a few chapters of Catch-22 for lit and I can’t stand that book 😭

(3:31 pm) you: I want to make a Catch 22 joke about that but I can’t think of any rip you: Maybe coach Kim only lets good swimmers skip practice, but if you’re good then you go to every practice? chewy granola bar: Unless you’re Junhui

(3:32 pm) chewy granola bar: But I’m not complaining, he can’t steal my granola bars if he’s not at practice chewy granola bar: Anywho I gotta go, cya! you: Adios

Vernon peeks over your shoulder. “Wait, hasn’t Tzuyu committed already? So she doesn’t have to worry about schoolwork that much.”

“That doesn’t mean you can slack off, Vernon. Plus, colleges can revoke their offers if you have bad grades.”

“Hm. Still, though. Oh!” He tilts your turned-off phone screen toward his face and examines his hair. “I like this color. Can you help me wash it out now?”

So you rinse and tone and dry Vernon’s hair, and once you’re done, he looks absolutely stunning. His hair is now several shades lighter, but looks silky enough to signify that it’s intentional, not a by-product of too much chlorine. “Woah, this is so much better than those wig filters,” you joke as he runs his hands through his hair.

“It’s so soft and light. Light as in weight-wise—you know what? It’s fluffy.” You giggle, and he swivels to face you, grabbing your hands. “Dude, feel it, it’s so different.”

You were right—his hair is silky, and as you card your fingers through it again and again, he steps back and sits on the edge of the bathtub. You slide onto the lid of the toilet and continue to play with his hair, forming a slow rhythm. Vernon grins and leans forward, fluttering his eyes shut and tilting his head into your touch. The sight of him resting so peacefully makes your heart skip a beat, but you shake your head, closing your eyes and calming your heartbeat.

When you open them, you’re surprised at how close you’ve gotten. Now you’re hyperaware of the mere inches separating you two. As his eyelashes cast shadows onto his under-eyes and you observe his serene expression, you can’t help but contemplate that this is how it will always be: Vernon thriving in his natural element, while you admire him from a distance, wondering about his inner world but never getting more than glimpses inside. The thought draws a sad sigh out of your mouth.

Vernon stirs at your exhale, opening his eyes and asking you what’s wrong. You tell him that it’s nothing, but he still reaches up for your hands, rubbing comforting circles into your palms and leaning forward as he asks you again. His earnest gaze is too intense for you to prolong after you can’t think of anything to say. Suddenly, it’s too much to process in one sitting.

You gently remove your hands from his grasp and hug your knees, looking anywhere but him. After your self-reminder of how little Vernon tells you, you can’t find your voice. Even if you could, you’re tired and weary and exhausted to the bone, and the push and pull of your relationship seems to be pulling you forward into his arms while pushing you back with the reminder of how little has changed in the past four months. Other than occasionally holding hands and general confusion over Vernon’s thoughts, everything has maddeningly stayed the same, and it just isn’t enough anymore. So you stay there, eyes downcast, too emotionally drained to do anything but collect your thoughts.

You can feel Vernon’s eyes linger on your face, longer than what you’re used to. Then, wordlessly, Vernon reaches out a hand to rest on your arm. When you don’t pull away, he slides closer and hesitantly wraps an arm around your shoulder. Slowly, you bury your face into the crook of his neck.

You stay like that for a while. After a few minutes, Vernon softly asks you if you want to talk. You shake your head—you don’t think you could put it into words.

“I’m better now,” You mumble into his chest truthfully, feeling like a liar. When you do so, a bitter taste of disappointment creeps up your throat. For once, it’s caused by you and not him.

Valentine’s Day has passed by the time the next Saturday rolls around, and you delight in the way Vernon’s face lights up when you give him a flowerpot with lilacs. They’re light purple—a lilac color the flower is named after—and symbolize first love. When Vernon asks for their meaning, you say they represent youth. Close enough.

Vernon keeps his promise to bring you discounted candy, along with a few bars of chocolate you need to make his favorite strawberry-chocolate cupcakes with chocolate-covered strawberries. He prepares the strawberries as you make the cupcakes—clearly getting the easier task—and pauses every now and then to rest a hand on your waist, smiling sheepishly and thanking you. You get shaky hands and blushy cheeks after he does so, and his actions certainly don’t make your job more efficient, but they do make for a better experience. You rate it five stars for how domestic it feels.

You eat the cupcakes for dessert that night, and the fucker has the audacity to feed you a strawberry in front of your parents. They think it’s cute, but you’re ready to combust on the spot. You get your revenge after dinner by smearing some buttercream on his nose. He’s so confused when it happens, too—he just stands there and blinks at you before he mutters a small, adorable ‘hey’. Quickly recovering, he chases you through the kitchen and smears some frosting on your cheek, laughing with you until you grab a paper towel to wipe his nose. He wipes your cheek as well, then slows his movements as he lowers the towel. He’s staring at you again, and you’re still not used to him looking at you without saying anything.

“What? Do I have any frosting left?” You swipe your hand against your embarrassingly warm face, but it comes back clean.

He shakes his head. “No.” He clears his throat, then steps back, snapping his gaze away. When he looks back at you, his eyes don’t linger. “Anyways, we should pack some of these up.”

You place the cupcakes and strawberries into containers, standing side by side, and when you walk outside to drive him home, he holds your free hand with his.

His parents are back from their date by the time you get to his house, and Sofia’s returned from her friend’s house, too. They invite you inside and thank you for sharing your cupcakes with them, and you chat with them for a while before Vernon drags you outside again to the porch.

The sun set a long time ago, so you admire the stars, pointing out your favorite constellations to Vernon. His parents step outside once to offer you hot cocoa, and Vernon wraps and arm around your shoulders after they leave. You stay like that, snuggled into his side, until you finish your drinks and check the time, finding that it’s almost time for you to go. Vernon sighs and pulls you closer, but eventually relents and stands up, walking you to your car.

He stops on his driveway, taking your hands into his and swinging them around. That much is normal, but the furrow of his eyebrows and his downward-cast eyes aren’t. You want to ask him what’s wrong, but it looks like he’s about to tell you anyways. So you just keep quiet and wait for him to collect his thoughts.

Finally, he looks up. “Y/n… can I kiss you?”

“What?” You can’t possibly have heard him correctly, but he lets go of your hands and takes a step back, so maybe you did. “I didn’t mean that as a rejection, I’m just surprised,” you rush to clarify.

“Yeah, but like, you’re not obligated to not reject that, you know?” Vernon stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks to the side, chew on his bottom lip. Your eyes zero in on the movement, your heart melts into a gooey puddle, and your brain overcomes the initial shock enough to scream at you to kiss him.

“Yes.”

“What?” Now it’s Vernon’s turn to be surprised.

“Yes, you can kiss me. I, uh…” you trail off, taking a step closer to him. “I’d be disappointed if you brought it up and didn’t do it.”

Slowly, Vernon beams. He takes his hands out of his pockets, then puts them in before taking them out again. He takes hold of both of your hands, swinging them a little before he shakes his head and stops. Then he takes a small step forward, leans in, and presses his lips against yours.

Time doesn’t slow down—the kiss barely lasts for a second. But you’re more than okay with that, because Vernon’s eyes flutter closed and he leans in again, kissing you firmly.

It’s not an exaggeration to say your heart feels like it’s floating out of your chest with happiness. Your knees wobble a little and your legs feel weak, and you lean forward into Vernon more in order to stop yourself from falling down. He lets go of your right hand and rests his hand on your shoulder. You sigh, but the sound gets lost when you move your left hand up to the back of his neck and pull him closer. His lips part just a little, and then he tilts his head and kisses you deeper.

You’re the one who finally pulls away to catch your breath, but not before Vernon presses one final peck to your mouth. He grabs your right hand again, and you giggle as you thread your left hand’s fingers with his. He smiles at you, too, then clears his throat.

“Um, that was my first kiss.”

“Really? There are a lot of people who’d like to kiss you, though.” You’re pretty sure a quarter of the student body has had a crush on him at some point.

“I, uh, wanted it to be special.”

“Was it?”

“It was.”

“That’s… good…” You’re pretty sure your face is the color of a Flamin’ Hot Cheeto, but somehow you muster the courage to look him in the eye. He smiles at you, then leans in closer and rests his forehead against yours. You close your eyes instinctively, hyper-aware of how clammy your hands feel and how loud your breaths sound. After a few seconds go by and he doesn’t pull away, you feel your shoulders relax, and the rest of your body follows suit—and then it’s just the two of you, standing in a little bubble where nothing but this moment exists, entirely comfortable, and soon entirely at peace.

Honestly, you could stand there forever, so close and intimate with no pressure on what to do next, but you’re eventually the one who pulls away after who knows how long. You instantly miss the warmth of his forehead against yours, but watching Vernon’s eyes flutter open more than makes up for it. He smiles.

Then, out of the blue, he asks, “I’m guessing that wasn’t, uh, your first kiss?”

“What?” You really need to stop reacting to all his questions like that. His eyes widen, and you quickly explain, “I’m not mad at you for asking, I just wasn’t expecting that. And… no, it wasn’t.”

“Ah. If you don’t mind me asking, who was it with? But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to! That’s completely fine! Forget I ever asked!” He takes a step back and lets go of your hands, and you immediately miss his presence.

“Um…” You’re still a little dumbfounded by the kiss, and now that he’s being awkward, it’s twice as hard to form a proper sentence. “I… uh… do you really want to know?”

“Only if you’re 100% comfortable. You don’t have to. I’m sorry.” Dang it, he’s covering his face with his hands. Forget tension—the awkwardness is thick enough to cut with a knife, and it’s doing nothing to stop your brain from panicking.

“Oh… alright.” You don’t see how telling him it was with Samuel will make the situation any better, so you don’t. “Um, yeah, so…” He still doesn’t look at you. Now you’re definitely worried that he regretted it, but you figure things will be worse if you can’t talk to one another. “Uh, are you sure you wanted to do that? It doesn’t have to be weird if you didn’t.”

Immediately, his hands fly off his face and onto your shoulders, and he finally looks at you. “Yes! Yes, of course! Sorry, I—that was just new, I’m not used to it, but I liked that, I wanted to do that, yeah,” he says in a rush.

Very slowly, you lift your hands and rest them on the sides of his face. He stays put, and you suddenly feel shy. You resist the urge to glance away and channel your nerves through a smile instead. “That’s good to hear, Vernon, because I liked it too. And…” He leans in a little, enough to make the atmosphere feel intimate, and you gulp. Vernon’s focusing on you like that, when his face softens and his expression makes you feel like you’re the center of his world. “Vernon, if you wanted to do that again… I’d like that too.”

He positively beams. All traces of nervousness are gone from his face, and you internally sigh with relief (and maybe because you’re swooning internally, too. And externally, although that much is probably obvious). “I would, too. Y/n, can I? Kiss you again?”

You move your hands up and lace your fingers behind his neck. “You absolutely can.”

If you thought that kissing Vernon before could prepare you for this, you were pleasantly mistaken. He’s more confident this time, causing a noise of surprise to rise in your throat. You feel the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile, and if your eyes were open, you might have rolled them. You settle for sliding one hand into his hair and wrapping the other arm around his neck instead, pulling him closer, and he rests his hands on your waist.

He kisses you firmly, all traces of hesitation gone as he brushes his lips with yours again and again and again. A feeling of pure bliss takes over as he slides his hands to meet in the small of your back, leaning into you ever so slightly. It’s just the two of you, like two puzzle pieces that have finally fit together, and it just feels so right.

Then you hear the door to his driveway open. You spring apart. Sofia’s frozen mid-step, holding a trash bag in her right hand. The three of you are silent for a solid five seconds before she clears her throat. “Sorry. Please continue.” She ducks back inside, leaving just you and Vernon and the awkward atmosphere hanging in the air.

Vernon can’t meet your eyes, and he can’t seem to figure out what he wants to say, which is usually not reassuring behavior, especially after a first kiss. Or maybe, you think, it’s not meant to be reassuring and now he realizes that he didn’t really like it after all, but he’s too polite to say it. Whatever the reason, you feel pressured to say something and break the silence. “Uh, I think I should go home now.”

“Ok. Drive safe.” He laughs a little, then turns to look at you. He plants a kiss on your forehead and squeezes your hand before releasing it, stepping back and grinning toothily. His smile reaches his eyes, and you swoon a little as your bubble of happiness grows even bigger.

“I will. Goodnight, Vernon.”

“Goodnight, y/n. Don’t let the bedbugs bite.” He says that every night, but that doesn’t stop your cheeks from heating up. You resist the urge to hide your face in your hands and slip into your car instead.

Once you pull out of his driveway, he’s still standing there, waving at you, and you give him a small wave before driving home with a gigantic smile you can’t wipe off.

(11:22 pm) you: KHKDSJFAHKDSHKJHADSKEF MINA

(11:25 pm) juul? nah. juilliard!: ASKDJHKEWAJHFWKLJAH Y/N juul? nah. juilliard!: more premarital h*nd h*lding? you: KJSDHLAKJSDHFLEUFHLKJAHKADJSF AHHHHHHHH juul? nah. juilliard!: GIRLIE- 👁👄👁 juul? nah. juilliard!: SPILL you: GIMME TIME TO PROCESS :00 you: But aaaaaaaaaaaEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

(11:26 pm) you: Ok it’s sleepytime byeeee love you xoxo juul? nah. juilliard!: YOU CANT SAY THAT AND LEAVE COME BACK HERE juul? nah. juilliard!: gn love you too exo exo

A wide smile stays on your face as you brush your teeth, wash your face, and settle into your bed. It grows bigger as you open your texts with Vernon.

You’re floating on cloud nine as you text him goodnight first.

(11:34 pm) you: Goodnight Vernon you: Sleep tight

(11:35 pm) you: Sweet dreams :D (delivered)

Vernon takes twelve hours and eight minutes to respond. It’s the first time in years that he hasn’t texted you a ‘goodnight’. That worries you, especially after last night—what did he think? Is he regretting it? Does he not want… whatever this is anymore? Ugh, mixed signals suck. Your worries keep you back from texting him more than ‘good morning’.

Speaking of which, you really need to ask him about what your relationship is. You make a mental note to ask him in person, then open his texts.

(11:43 am) jules vern(e): hey remember that picnic we went on in second grade when i spilled lemonade over my pants and it looked like i peed my pants jules vern(e): but then u gave me ur sweater to cover it

(11:49 am) you: … Good morning to you too, Vernon you: Did you just wake up you: And how could I forget lmao

(11:50 am) jules vern(e): nah i went biking for a while jules vern(e): it was rly peaceful jules vern(e): especially so since i just submitted my last college app this morning :DD jules vern(e): now im free

(11:52 am) you: What omfg congrats!! Now you can be a cool kid with me/Minghao/Junhui/Tzuyu and go back to stressing over school instead of college you: Also why’d you bring that picnic up?

(11:53 am) jules vern(e): better save me as JUULS vern(e) in ur phone now that im so cool 😎😗💨 you: MARK LEE IS A HORRIBLE INFLUENCE ON YOU i h8 it here jules vern(e): i think u mean the best influence you: Pls get 20,000 leagues away from me you: Mina is the ONLY person I’ll have a juul-related contact name for

(11:54 am) jules vern(e): what im hurt jules vern(e): WAIT DANG IT HOW COME I DIDNT THINK OF JUUL-LIARD you: Good puns come with good taste Vern, read a book jules vern(e): but i cant read :(( jules vern(e): n e ways jules vern(e): now that im free do u wanna go on a picnic with me jules vern(e): promise i wont spill my lemonade again 🥺

(11:55 am) you: Ofc! What do you have in mind?

As you make plans, you can’t help but smile. The last time you were alone with him on a Sunday was sometime before winter break, as you’ve both been busy with school and applications and plans with other friends since. Plus, the thought that he wants to spend his first “free” day after applications are done with you makes you tingly with joy.

And the day is nice—you make kimbap at his house before going on a picnic for dinner. The day is enjoyable. The events that follow are not.

Over the span of five hours, Vernon makes no move to address the kiss last night. And if you’re being honest, you’re more than tired from always bringing up difficult topics when you finally cave from his inaction. So when you’re the one who inevitably brings it up, your exasperation only makes things worse.

“So, Vernon.” You’re standing on his porch, observing the horizon as the sun sets, not touching. He’s standing about a yard away from you, and what breaks your heart is that he’d be closer if you had kept your mouth shut and just stayed friends. You’re confused and exhausted and second-guessing yourself, and you fight to keep your voice from shaking. “Are we going to talk about that kiss, or are we going to pretend it didn’t happen? And if we’re going with the latter, will we be awkward while doing so, or will we pretend everything’s normal and just act like regular friends?” As you say the last word, his shoulders tense up.

He stays like that as he answers. “It happened, and I liked it.”

“It doesn’t really seem like it.”

“I… I just would like to wait a little longer before doing that again.”

He doesn’t say it like a weak excuse—it’s much too genuine for that—but as the world blurs around you. You’re too tired to dwell on that further. “I’m fine with that Vernon. What bothers me is that you don’t tell me any of this. I have to guess what you’re thinking while tiptoeing around, worrying about rushing you or forcing you into doing whatever, until I have to be the one who brings it up. I hate it. Our friendship was never like this. Well,” you laugh bitterly, “I guess we’re still only friends, so our friendship has turned into this. I don’t know what you want, or what you’re thinking, or how you’re okay with treating this so casually.”

Oh, boy. You’re crying at this point, which can’t be pleasant to deal with alongside your emotional catharsis, but at least Vernon can’t ignore what you’re saying now. All your frustration from the past few months comes rushing out. “I’m not asking to be the most important person in your life,” you choke out. “I just want to be somewhere on that list, someone that you think of from time to time. And I’d like to know how you think of me, and if I should just go back to being your best friend or if I should expect something more.” At this point, talking is too overwhelming, and you just bury your head in your hands and sob, your torso quivering from your effort to stay quiet.

After a few seconds pass, you hear Vernon slide next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, but you refuse to lean into him for support. “Talk, Vernon. Say something. Don’t sidestep this again.”

His voice is low and quiet, but that makes it all the more intense, and you belatedly worry about pushing him too far. “You are important to me. I do think about you. More than you think, you know. A lot more.”

Emotion clouds your judgment—you’re not sure which emotion it is, though. Pain? Anger? Some deep attachment that feels very, very unrequited? “And how am I supposed to know? How am I supposed to read your mind when you won’t tell me a damn thing?”

He opens his mouth, and you wait for his answer. And wait. And wait. But then he closes it and looks away with a furrow in his eyebrows. He sighs softly—so quiet you have to strain to hear it, but loud and clear in the silence. That sigh prompts you to furiously wipe away your tears, but when your vision clears, he’s still leaning on the porch’s rails, facing forward, eyes downcast. When he turns toward you, he’s calm and composed. Stoic.

Vernon’s hesitant to look you in the eye, and that breaks your heart. His shoulders slump forward, closing him off physically, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that’s what he’s doing mentally, too. He inhales, preparing to say something, and you can’t take it anymore.

You’re not sticking around to hear what distant, carefully constructed response he’s crafted. You bolt. By the time you finally stop to dab at your tears, you’re already buckled up in your car.

Vernon doesn’t stop you.

You wish he did.

On Monday, the first thing Vernon says when you pick him up is, “I, uh, won’t need a ride on Wednesday. I have a Key Club meeting before school.”

Well, you think. Good to know we’re still on speaking terms.

Silently, you nod once, not trusting your voice to work with the influx of emotions Vernon causes. You wish you could speak up, though. You wish you could ask him why he shut down and balked and if he’s trying to avoid you, but your throat constricts at the mere possibility. You feel the burden of the communication in this undefined relationship pressing down on your shoulders, and while you would love to selfishly dump it on someone else for once, just to get a fucking break, now’s not a great time. So you keep quiet.

Both of you sit in silence until you pull into a parking spot in front of the pool. Finally, Vernon says, “These morning practices sure suck,” as you unbuckle your seatbelts. It sounds forced, but anything beats awkward silence.

“Yeah, I’m not used to waking up this early. I almost slept through my alarm.” And so you make small talk until you enter the building and split up at the locker rooms. The conversation is so pointless, you silently vow to bring up your worries in the afternoon, if only to escape the dull facade of ignoring uncomfortable subjects. If you can write vulnerable essays for admissions officers to read, you sure as hell can have a normal conversation with Vernon like the mature almost-adults you are.

Right?

Joshua’s not in the pool when you’re done changing, and he never arrives. Morning swim practices, while rare, are strongly recommended (read: mandatory unless you’re Joshua Hong, apparently) for the team. He cares more about swimming than you and Minghao do, yet he’s the only one who doesn’t show up. Even Junhui glances at the locker room doors every now and then, waiting for him to walk out.

The man in question shuffles into first-period US Government and Politics five minutes before it begins as you search your backpack for a pencil. When he drags his chair out and sits next to you, his movements are sluggish.

You stop your search. “Joshua, what’s wrong?”

“Tzuyu and I broke up.” His voice is robotic and flat, like he can’t quite bring himself to believe his words. “Vernon liked her when we started dating, and she led him on for a few weeks. She only told me yesterday.”

You freeze. After a painful length of awkward silence, you force your vocal cords to unfreeze. “W-what? You didn’t know? Fuck, I thought you did.”

He turns his chair to face you. “You knew? Well,” he laughs drily. The empty sound is sharp enough to sting. “At least I don’t have to break the news to you now.”

“Joshua, I’m so sorry. I would have told you.” Your shock fades away to guilt as you mentally curse yourself for not saying something earlier.

He shakes his head. “It’s not your fault.” He leans forward, bracing his forehead against your shoulder. “I don’t know. She got a lot closer to Vernon all of a sudden, and I thought it was unexpected but nothing too big. But then it seemed like it was just… different from a regular friendship. I didn’t know how to explain it, but I guess it makes sense now. And I talked to her about it, and there were so many times when she could’ve just told me, and she never did. Until yesterday.”

You nod, then realize he can’t see you. “That must’ve hurt.”

“It did. I didn’t know what to do, since she kind of stopped that after a while. I’m just so confused, like is that considered cheating or not? But whatever it’s considered, it still hurt, especially since it happened when we had just gotten together. So I needed time to think, right? A lot of time to myself to think.” He lifts his head and leans back against his chair. “And… in my mind, you’re either dating someone, or you’re not. So… so I broke up with her.”

“I see where you’re coming from, Josh,” you say. Even though you probably would have reacted differently, you know Joshua’s mature enough to make a minimal amount of dumb decisions. “Um… what do you think you’ll do after you’re done thinking? And have you talked to Vernon yet?”

“I’m not sure yet. And I’ll talk to him at lunch, since we have plenty of time alone waiting for you guys to arrive. Slowpokes. Also, you guys have worked this out, right? Since you already knew about it?”

“Uh… we sort of worked that out, I guess—”

“Wait, so there are other things you haven’t?” Joshua snaps his head around, the first real sign of life he’s shown so far.

“I don’t know, we’ve talked about everything before but sometimes he gets awkward and stops talking and I just have to drop it.” You sigh, leaning your head against your hands as you try to contain the ache in your heart. Wow, you really need to google if a broken heart is supposed to feel that way or if you just have heartburn.

“What! Y/n, you can’t—”

“It’s ok. I let it happen because, well, I liked him too much.” You hold up your hands before Joshua can argue. “But I’ve been thinking, and I can’t accept if he’s not open about what he’s thinking. How he feels about me. I’m still figuring things out, but this is just between Vernon and I. Ok?” When he doesn’t respond, you add, “Josh, you know I’m not a doormat. You know I’ll end things if I need to.”

Finally, he nods once. “Alright.”

“And hey, if you’re tired of thinking and you need a friend, tell me. You don’t have to be on your own. I love you, man.”

He ducks his head. “You’re making me emo before class even starts. I love you too, dude.”

You pull him into a tight half-hug, and he finally smiles, before class starts. Even though first period is your only class with him, you’re still mulling over what he told you when it’s time for lunch.

Vernon and Joshua have class near the cafeteria, and they’re already talking when you arrive at your lunch spot. You hear Joshua say, “Anyways, sorry about Sunday, Vern. I had, like, no motivation to go out or do anything, but I feel bad for canceling.”

“You hung out with him on Sunday? In the morning?” you ask, confused.

“Nah, we had plans, but then…” The weight of the unspoken event hangs in the air. He hunches over again, propping his head up with his hand. “Yeah. Sorry, Vernon.”

“It’s fine, dude. I went on a picnic with y/n. It was fun.” Vernon hesitantly reaches for your hand under the table, and you wonder where this affection was when you confronted him last night. “Also, why didn’t you say anything? I feel bad for leaving you on your own.”

Joshua says something about the importance of alone time and introspection and psychodynamic theory—ok, you’re pretty sure he’s just pulling AP Psychology terms out of his ass by now—but you only half listen.

You did think it was kind of random for Vernon to drag you away for a picnic without telling you beforehand, and now you know why. It’s because he wasn’t planning on it after all. It’s because you were a replacement for Joshua. Damn, you were stupid to hope that he wanted to spend more time with you instead of staving off boredom.

You don’t feel hungry anymore.

“Joshua, you want some of my kimbap? We made it yesterday. It’s pretty good.” You pull your hand away from Vernon’s, take your kimbap container out from your lunchbox, and set it down in front of Joshua. He shrugs, opening it and placing a piece in his mouth as Seungkwan leans over and begs him for a piece.

Junhui chooses this time to show up. “Hey, kimbap!” He steals a piece. “Please tell me neither of you,” he points at Joshua, then Vernon, “were in charge of making this.”

“Y/n made most of it, but she told me to chop some stuff up and I think I might have accidentally bled in the carrots, sorry.” Vernon pops a piece of his own kimbap into his mouth casually. All three of you look at him, horrified, and he smiles sheepishly. “Kidding.”

“Ah, my beloved carrots are ok.” Junhui steals a piece from Vernon this time, before sitting down across from you, expression turning serious. “Anyways, Josh, how come you weren’t at practice this morning? Are you alright?” Classic Junhui. Insult someone’s cooking skills while eating their food, then settle down for a nice heart-to-heart.

Joshua explains what happened as you glance around the table. Jihoon takes his seat next to Seungkwan, Jeongyeon and Mina claim their spots, and then the whole first-lunch crew’s here. Almost.

When Tzuyu arrives, she looks hesitant. Mina tugs her sleeve toward the furthest seat from Joshua while continuing her description of her dance competition over the weekend and how it felt less stressful now that the Juilliard audition had passed. The rest of lunch is more or less normal.

As you walk with Tzuyu to fourth-period Biology, you ask how her tennis skills are progressing from her friendly matches with Chaeyoung. She relaxes a little when you start talking, but her responses feel hesitant. When you offer to tag along with Mina so you all can play doubles, she’s finally able to look you in the eye. She even convinces you to get a tennis skirt when she mentions that they come with pockets, before class starts and you stop talking.

In the song ‘Heather’ by Conan Gray, the singer compares himself to “Heather”, a person who you want to hate but can’t bring yourself to because they’re so perfect. And honestly, Tzuyu’s your real-life version of Heather. She embodies loveliness and energy and radiance, and after four months of knowing Vernon saw exactly that in her, you’ve stopped feeling jealous. It’s like Vernon said: she’s a friend, not an idealized projection instead of a person. You guys are cool—you’ve finally gotten over yourself and started hanging out with her again like you did in your earlier high school years.

Your heart goes out to Joshua, as you know firsthand how crushing it feels when the person you like flirts with someone else. But at the same time, you’re sympathetic towards Tzuyu. Maybe it’s because of the amount of time you knew about it or the fact that Vernon couldn’t have cheated when you were never dating him. Regardless of the reason, good or bad, you’ve seen how she acted after the fact, dropping that two-week period of getting Vernon’s attention overnight and treating him as a regular friend so quickly, it was like that period never happened.

But what do you know? You made Joshua worry about your relationship when he was hurting. You still don’t know where you stand with Vernon. And you’re far, far away from being Heather.

This can’t go on. You can’t stay in this blurry relationship, where everyone involved keeps getting hurt. You don’t want to end it, but it’ll be fine. It’s not fine right now, but it has to be, eventually. If Vernon ends up leaving your life in the worst case scenario, it’s his loss for throwing a decade of friendship away.

You have to initiate talks when Vernon won’t. Might as well initiate a “breakup” if he won’t.

Joshua’s in slightly better shape on Friday for the last meet before state championships.

“Why did you drive him to school?” That’s not to say he’s figured everything out, though. Right now, he claims he’s still friends with Vernon, but he avoids saying Vernon’s name when Vernon’s not there. The same goes for Tzuyu. He pulled you outside the moment you both have a long enough break from your events to talk in private, towel still hanging around his neck, and boy, is he angry.

“It’s Friday,” is your explanation. You slump against the bench. It’s weird—associating Vernon with negative emotions when he’s always been one of your closest friends. Joshua’s going through a similar experience, and the juxtaposition of how you’re both handling it contrasts as much as your emotions concerning Vernon.

“The day of the week doesn’t make him a different person.” Maybe Joshua’s at a stage where subtlety is a mere suggestion, but you’re at a point where you still feel the need to defend Vernon.

“Josh, why are you so angry at him?”

“Why aren’t you? Why aren’t you, out of all people, angry at what he’s done, and why are you defending him instead?”

“I’m defending him because I’m his friend and I’ve accepted that’s all I’ll ever be—”

“And I’m angry because I’m your friend. I’m not blaming him for what she did, but I’m absolutely pissed that he couldn’t abide by the relationship he proposed.” He ruffles his damp hair, and a few water droplets land on your arm.

“I’ve known about it since the beginning, and he was always honest with me, too. I’ve had time to make peace with what happened. And besides, it won’t matter after today. I’m telling him that I want to go back to being friends. You can’t really get your heart broken after that, right?”

This deflates his anger a little bit. He pauses, expression stunned. “But… why?”

“You said it yourself: either you’re dating, or you’re not. The glorified friendship with no commitment thing we’re doing isn’t enough for me, so we might as well go back to being friends and being normal.”

“Or you could ask him out?”

You scoff. You want to—desperately want to—but you know it’s not an option. “Please. From day one, he’s known that I like him. He’s never mentioned how he feels, and it’s not hard to guess, either. Better extinguish this false hope now, rather than waiting for him to do it.”

“Have you even tried? I don’t know why you would give up all of a sudden.”

“And I don’t know why you’re trying to change my mind when you were shading him five minutes ago. Plus, I don’t think you can say I’m giving up. You’re not the one who’s in love with him.”

“Oh,” is all he says, and just like that, your anger evaporates as you bury your head into his shoulder. His towel is slightly damp and the smell of chlorine invades your lungs, but you feel safe. “I didn’t mean that, y/n. I’m sorry, that was too harsh.” You mutter a muffled ‘s’okay’ and he pats your back before continuing. “But it seems like Vernon could be interested in a relationship, and I think you should ask him about it before you split with him. I think you’d both be happy. You don’t have to suffer in order to love someone, you know.”

“It’s just highschooler love. I’m sure it’ll fade into something harmless that I can deal with.”

“Highschooler love isn’t different from love, though,” he whispers gently. A little too knowingly.

You lift your head to look at him questioningly. “Joshua, how—”

“Takes a highschooler in love to know a highschooler in love, doesn’t it?” he smiles sadly.

“Joshua…” You don’t know what to say. “What are you gonna do?”

“Good question. I’ll either accept it or I’ll move on. Right now though,” he says, clapping you on the back and checking the time on his phone, “I’ve got a relay to swim.” The words have barely left his mouth when Vernon exits the nearby doors, stopping when he sees the two of you.

“Hey, Josh. Kim told me to find you and make sure you got to your lane on time.”

Joshua raises his eyebrows, although his expression lacks the anger he had a minute ago. “I was just about to go inside. Perfect timing, then. You can keep y/n company.” He stands and looks back at you, and for a moment you worry that he can hear the pounding of your heart. Then he shakes his head—not as a warning, but as a sign of resignation. “Have fun.”

The sheer audacity of his statement draws an awkward, strangled chuckle from you. Joshua grins. “Have fun?”

“You too.” Then he walks inside.

Vernon shuffles forward and slides onto the bench next to you. “Hey. You alright?” You shrug. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, I’m just tired.”

“Oh. Maybe we could take a nap together tomorrow, or something?”

Your resolve nearly wavers. You want to spend the entire day tomorrow with Vernon—you really do—but it won’t be enough. It can’t be enough, not when you’re implicitly stuck in the friendzone. “I don’t… I don’t think we should hang out tomorrow, Vernon.”

When you say those words, it feels wrong—you’ve spent your Saturdays with Vernon for years now—and it’s obvious Vernon thinks so too, judging by the crease between his eyebrows and the twist of his mouth. “Why not? Is everything okay?”

No. “Yeah, of course. I just… uh, don’t think that we should keep on doing this.” You vaguely gesture with your hands as you say this. You’ve gone five months without attaching a label, and you don’t know whether you should laugh or cry.

Vernon looks mildly panicked. “Doing what?”

“You know what. Doing whatever our relationship is right now. It’s just not enough, Vernon. We don’t have any labels or commitment. Everything’s gone to shit.”

“But… I thought things were okay. We can fix this, right? We can work this out and attach labels and make it better. Right?”

You stand abruptly. He follows suit after a two-second delay. “Then why didn’t you do that earlier? Vernon, this relationship thing feels like a one-sided effort. I’m giving you so much that I’m not getting in return. You just seem passive about where this is going. And sometimes, I feel like you would care about our friendship so much more if we never went outside the boundaries that regular friends have.”

“No! Y/n, I do care. A lot. I want this.” His hands dart out, grasping yours firmly. “You’re important to me. I care about you as a person.” As a person, as a friend, as anything but someone to possibly like. That hurts. But maybe it’s time for you to accept that Vernon will never see you as anything more.

“If you really cared about me, as a person, you’d stop leading me on.” Dry. Dry anger. “I want to end whatever this is. This zero-commitment thing that… you only care about when it’s convenient for you.” Like a tidal wave, wet anger washes over you, drowning everything in its path. Your eyes water up. Your heart aches.

“No.” Vernon shakes his head, clutching your hands tighter. “Y/n. We should talk.”

Maybe you would have talked. Maybe you would have stayed and listened under different circumstances. But Tzuyu exits the building at that exact moment, pausing when she sees the two of you. “Oh—you guys are done already? You’re not doing any relays?”

Vernon’s grip on your hands loosens. He stares at Tzuyu, mouth open but no words coming out. Hugging her torso awkwardly and glancing at the ground and the parking lot, it’s obvious that she didn’t want to walk in on this very obvious spat.

You glance back at Vernon to find him staring at her, unflinchingly, his grip loosening enough to drop your hands. All your doubts and insecurities come rushing back to you at this moment, and the feeling that you’re unwanted grows exponentially. Your ballooning worries seem to press down on your temple, and all the built-up pressure signals an impending wave of tears.

But Vernon still doesn’t look at you. And something inside of you snaps. Fire flares up, blooming across your face. It dries your tears, evaporates your watery anger, and consumes you from head to toe. You feel hot all over. So what if Vernon doesn’t reciprocate your feelings? With how avoidant he’s been over the past week, who’s to say that’s a bad thing? If Vernon doesn’t give a flying fuck, why should you?

Your face burns from anger and shame and hurt, but you swallow and steady yourself. “Vernon. I’m done,” you scoff, barely audible. You’re afraid that you’ll end up shouting if you talk any louder.

You leave. He doesn’t stop you.

The sunset is as red as your anger.

Minghao’s butterfly suffered at the expense of his schoolwork. Joshua gets third place in men’s backstroke. Both of them sit across from you, slouching in their booth seats. Junhui wins in one of the freestyles and calls his mom, but she doesn’t pick up. He sits next to you, and the four of you wait for the rest of the team to order. You’re sure your glum expression mirrors theirs.

Across the fast-food restaurant, Vernon sits with Tzuyu, the two of them talking quietly.

Your anger brews silently, thickening and rising until you force it to cool for a few seconds. Then the process repeats. When you get on the bus, leaning your back against Joshua and propping your feet on Minghao’s lap across the aisle, your anger reduces to a simmer.

Vernon doesn’t care. So why should you?

A smaller voice at the back of your mind whispers, but you wish he did, don’t you?

Vernon sits two rows in front of Minghao and Junhui, alone. He doesn’t say anything for the entire ride.

He doesn’t care.

But you do.

You ignore him, tuning into Junhui, Minghao, and Joshua’s debate about The Bee Movie’s blatant disregard for physics and if bee-steality is even feasible. Sometime later, Junhui calls it a night and coaxes Minghao into sleeping instead of sketching or doing homework. You lean your head on Joshua’s shoulder, and it’s silent for a few minutes.

Then Joshua whispers, “I’m guessing that went horribly.”

You sob.

He pulls you into a hug. You listen to his steady breathing for a few seconds and relax into his embrace, silently crying into his shoulder.

“It’s ok,” he whispers. “I’m here. Let it all out.”

You stay like that for a few minutes until your tears stop flowing and your breathing gets calmer. When you pull away, you mumble a quiet ‘thanks’.

“Here, I have some napkins.” He reaches for his backpack and hands you a stack. “You have water, right?”

You nod. “Thank you, Joshua.” As you take a few deep breaths, you pull away and slump against the back of the seat. You dab at your eyes while you force a lump down your throat. “This fucking sucks.”

“I know. Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”

Joshua pats your back. “That’s okay. I’m here. What do you need?”

“I don’t—I just—I think I want to sleep.”

Joshua lets you ease your head onto his shoulder, smoothing your hair away from your forehead. “Sleep tight,” he whispers. It’s what Vernon always says, you note with a pang in your heart, but Joshua makes the words sound comforting. With that, you’re quickly lulled to sleep.

Sometime later, you’re shaken awake. “Y/n, wake up. We’re here,” Joshua says as he gently shakes your shoulder. You blink a few times, disoriented. Once you’re awake, Joshua helps you stand up and slings your backpack over your right shoulder.

You step off the bus, looping your left arm through the other backpack strap. Minghao, Junhui, Vernon, and Tzuyu stand by the side of the bus. Tzuyu talks quietly into her phone, then hangs up.

“Guys, I need a ride.” She winces. “My parents forgot about me again.”

Minghao lives on the other side of town. Joshua still looks like he needs time to think. You need to talk with her, clear things up, and make peace.

“I can take you home,” you offer. “We only live five or ten minutes apart.”

“You sure?” You nod. “Thanks, y/n.”

“No problem.” You turn to Joshua. “You can take Vernon home, right?”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t look too happy about it, but he doesn’t look unhappy either.

Minghao’s mom arrives at that moment. Minghao and Junhui bid you farewell before departing, leaving the four of you behind. “Vernon, do you wanna get your stuff out of my car?” You can’t meet his eyes.

“I probably should.” He walks with you, and when you look back at Joshua and Tzuyu, you see that they’re talking.

You reach your car and open the trunk. He grabs his regular backpack, but makes no move to walk away. “Y/n, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Do better.” You play with your keys. “We should talk. Later.” You can’t meet his eye as you add, “Much later.”

“We should.” He steps closer. “I wasn’t leading you on, I promise. I made bad decisions and didn’t know what to do, since… everything was so different.”

You acknowledge this with a nod. “We’ll talk, Vernon.”

“I care about you as a friend and so much more, but I failed in both ways, and I shouldn’t have made you doubt how important you are to me. I’ll be ready to talk whenever you are.”

Half of you wants to talk right now, while half of you wants to run away. Then all of you feels horrible for wanting to avoid him, and you panic at the thought of Vernon no longer being an important person in your life. “Vernon, we’re still—we’re still, like, cool, right?” That sentence doesn’t make any sense, but Vernon knows what you mean.

“Yeah! Yeah, we’re friends, we’re cool, yeah.”

“Yeah, that’s good. Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tzuyu walk over, stopping a few yards away. “Yeah. Goodnight, Vernon. I’ll text you.”

“Okay. Goodnight, y/n.”

You wave goodbye to Joshua as Vernon walks toward him, then place your backpack in your trunk. Tzuyu does the same. “Tzuyu, are you in a hurry to get home? I was wondering if you’d want to get boba with me.”

She grins. “I’d like that. Where do you usually go?”

“The strip mall a few blocks away has some good boba.”

“Oh, I love that place. You know the mascot that advertises for them on weekends?”

“Minhyun! Oh my god, he’s so nice. He says hi to me every time I see him.”

And then you’re laughing with the windows rolled down and the night breeze on your face as you fall into an easy conversation about all the baristas who work there. It’s so comforting to finally talk to Tzuyu about the mundane with the expectation of learning more later after being on edge, and you regret letting awkwardness with Vernon distance you from her earlier in the year. But, you think with a sigh, that’s your fault.

(9:02 pm) chewy granola bar: I’m sorry (delivered)

Half an hour, two cups of boba, and a heated debate about the logistics of a flat Earth later (you think it would be a circle, although you can’t figure out how the polar regions would work, while Tzuyu argues that a cardboard box represents an Earth that’s both flat and hollow), the topic of relationships finally comes up.

“So. Josh and Vernon.” Tzuyu swirls her finger in the ring of water her boba cup left behind, staring at the table. “You’re probably wondering about that.”

“Yeah, sort of.”

“It’s my fault for stringing Vernon along and not telling Joshua earlier.” She grimaces. “It started with this stupid need for attention, and… I haven’t really opened up about it, other than to Chaeyoung. And even then, I haven’t really told her everything.”

“I’m more than happy to listen if you want to share. It’s okay if you don’t want to. Just doing this is progress for us, you know?”

“Yeah, we really should’ve done this earlier. But I want you to know, and I think you deserve to know, and if nothing else, this is a huge weight lifted off my chest.”

You nod. “I’m all ears.”

Tzuyu moves her drink to the side. “I’m not trying to justify anything, and I’m really ashamed of how this has progressed. But I guess it starts with my parents… I don’t know what happened. Growing up, they were better, even though they paid more attention to my older brother—Jackson the twerp. I mean, we’re super close, but as a kid that hurt. But then Jackson graduated two years ago, and they both got promotions, and all of a sudden they were more distant than they’d ever been. Still, some part of me still wanted their attention or something. Even though in hindsight, that shouldn’t have been my first priority. I don’t know.”

She glances up and you nod. “I can only imagine how much that would’ve hurt.”

“Yeah. It did.” Her hand slides away from the ring of water, back toward her side of the table. “I think the moment I fully realized they had turned into different people—and that I didn’t really need to be chasing their approval anymore—was when Jackson came home for winter break this year. He had told all of us when his flight was landing, and I assumed one of them would pick him up. He was our family’s golden boy, after all. But they were busy at work, as always, and he ended up taking a taxi back. I was the only person home when he arrived.”

You nod when she looks up, urging her to go on.

“But still, up until this year—even for part of this year—I craved that attention, and it didn’t matter who it was from. When Vernon… y’know, I led him on for that attention at first.” She locks eyes with you, maintaining eye contact as she says, “I’m sorry. I took advantage of his emotions for a stupid reason that didn’t involve anyone but myself, and I didn’t do enough about the consequences. I shouldn’t have even thought about it, but I acted on it, and for that, I’m really, truly sorry.”

You digest that for a moment. “I forgive you. You’ve moved past that now. Although I’m probably the person you need to apologize to the least out of everyone involved.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry, too, Tzuyu. We grew apart this year. I should’ve talked to you about this instead of avoiding it, and I should’ve been a better friend to you.”

“Hey, we made mistakes, and now we’re trying to fix them. It’s okay.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Finally, finally, you feel at peace with her. Now all you need to do is talk to Vernon… but you’re not looking forward to it at the moment. You push all thoughts of Vernon to the back of your mind and focus on Tzuyu once again. “What else happened that made you… self-aware?”

“It was a combination of realizing how attention didn’t really matter and how important fulfilling relationships—even love—did. I don’t care about my parents’ attention if it doesn’t mean anything. And honestly, you guys—the swim team, my friends, everyone else—that’s more than enough, and I had to stop neglecting all of my important relationships. And Joshua showed me that when people care, you’ll know. You’re one of their priorities instead of a burden.” She swallows thickly, then admits in a whisper, “Joshua was probably kinder than I deserved.”

You don’t know what to say, so you stick with the truth. “I trust Joshua’s judgment. You make him really happy, you know.”

“I… I hope so. You make Vernon happy too, you know that?”

You reach out for your empty cup, mindlessly swirling your straw around. “Of course. We’re friends before everything else. But it felt like I was way more invested than he was in this thing. And whenever I brought it up, he’d tell me he was trying but it didn’t feel like it compared to what I was doing. And…”

And then you tell Tzuyu everything. When you’re done, your heart feels lighter. Of course, you’ve vented to Joshua and Mina before, but you’ve spared them some of the details. With Tzuyu, though, everything comes out—all your frustrations and fears and doubts—and it feels so right to be completely open after Tzuyu’s done so. When you finish, Tzuyu stares down at her hands, avoiding your eyes.

“Vernon really cares about you,” she says hesitantly. When you open your mouth, about to implore her to continue, she sighs. Finally, she looks up. “There’s one more thing I was going to tell you. Back in October, when you two first started… going out? Can I call it that?”

“I guess. Tzuyu, what happened?”

“Well, you remember how we started hanging out more often around that time, right?”

“Right…” A pit of dread settles in your stomach. You don’t like where this is going.

Seeing your distraught expression, Tzuyu hurries to clarify. “We only hung out as friends, I promise. It’s not about that. It’s just that he asked me for a lot of advice during those hangouts. And back then, I gave him—” she cuts off with a sigh, bringing her hands up to rest her chin on her palms. “I gave him some really, really bad advice on what to do, and he followed it.”

You blink. Then you burst out laughing, and Tzuyu stares at you, clearly not expecting this reaction. “I wasn’t expecting you to say that. Tzuyu, I thought something happened. Giving bad advice… dude, what did you say? How did he listen to you?”

Her shoulders relax. “You’re not mad? I mean, back then I basically told him to not do anything until he was 100% sure he wanted to date you, like no cheesy declarations or kissing or whatever. I think I justified it by saying he’d be leading you on with that kind of behavior, and that it would be easier to go back to being friends if you hadn’t really done anything? But I’d give him a bunch of horrible advice like that. I think that was what held him back from defining the relationship for a while. I mean, that explains it, but it doesn’t excuse it.”

That last sentence is pretty accurate—it puts your thoughts from the conversation into a coherent sentence. “Yeah. When did you stop doing that?”

“I promise, the last time I did that was mid-November. After that, he didn’t ask for advice as much, and I’d tell him what I actually thought would be the best, even though it was hard to go against what I had said earlier. Although he did freak out earlier this week, after the kiss…”

You bury your head in your hands. “Don’t remind me. Everything that followed the kiss was horrible. Ugh, I can never tell what he’s thinking.”

“I told him to work on that. But you know how happy he was from it, right?”

“What? He was happy?”

“Girl! Did he not tell you?”

“I…” You think back, and yeah, maybe he did say he liked it. “But he told me he didn’t want to do it again, or something along the lines of that, and I just assumed it was his way of rejecting me gently.”

She sighs sympathetically. “I think you should talk to him about this. The only way you can completely avoid confusion is by hearing exactly what he thinks. But really,” Tzuyu says as she reaches forward and pats your hand, “even though he has a different way of showing it, he really does like you. I think he’s just scared of what might happen if things don’t work out. But that’s a risk you always have to take, right?”

You don’t have an answer for that. Sensing this, Tzuyu adds, “That’s a lot to process. Do you want to keep talking about it, or do you want some time to think?”

“I need so much time to think. Ugh, it’s way too late for cognitive brain function. Can we go back to making fun of flat-Earthers? Or just talk about anything else in general. I’ll do some thinking tomorrow, when I’m running on enough sleep.”

“Of course. We’re okay now, right? We won’t be working against each other in the future?”

“We’re okay,” you say with a slow smile. Being at peace with Tzuyu again wasn’t a convoluted process like you’d dreaded. You can only hope that the same will be true with Vernon.

Half an hour later, you leave the boba store and head home.

“When we get to your neighborhood I need you to give me directions to your house. Like I remember the general area from the Christmas party, but I don’t remember the address,” you say as you pull out of the parking lot.

“Sure. You told your parents that you’d be back late, right?”

“Yeah, did you?”

“No, I told them I was getting a ride back, and they said they were going to bed.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.” To diffuse the awkwardness of the situation, you turn on the radio and crank the volume down. The chorus of a pop song hangs in the air, but it’s quiet enough to keep talking. Which you do. “We should hang out more often. You’re always welcome at my house, you know. My parents tell me I should be more graceful and put-together like you every time I sleep in and eat breakfast in the afternoon.”

“Then they clearly don’t remember my bedhead from all of our sleepovers.”

“Girl, your bedhead looked good enough for Paris fashion week.”

“Dude… no.”

“Dude… yes.”

You pass a few more minutes with conversation, slowing down when you drive into her neighborhood.

“Alright, so where to from here?” you ask.

“Turn left, then take the next right.”

“Left and right?”

She nods in time to the song playing on the radio. “You got it.”

Soon after, you arrive at her house and drop her off. When you get back home, you briefly consider texting Vernon, but you’re not sure what to say. You open your mom’s unread text message instead.

(10:34 pm) you: Tzuyu and I are getting boba and I’m not sure what time I’ll be back mama: Ok! I might be asleep when you get home. How was the meet? you: My times were normal you: Ok I’m driving now, bye mama: Good job! Drive safe!

(11:04 pm) mama: Vernon and Joshua just came over. Vernon gave me a note for you. It’s on your desk.

You freeze when you read the last text. Slowly, very carefully, you shuffle toward your desk. There, on top of your calculus textbook, lies an envelope. You dread the possibility of what it might contain, but you suppose it can’t be worse than everything you said to him, and you can’t avoid this forever.

Still, even as a new wave of guilt rises, your heartbeat thuds in your ears and you sharply inhale, dizzyingly, as you open the envelope. Bracing yourself for the worst, you force your eyes to read his note.

And you’re glad you did. When you read the first sentence, you fall back onto your bed, the air knocked out of your lungs. Your hand flies up to the base of your neck, grasping your mood ring like a lifeline. Slowly, very carefully, you let yourself smile.

Y/n,

I’m not good with words with you.

When you were just a friend, it was so easy to tell you exactly what I was thinking. But now I get tongue-tied, and the reason why is because you’re so much more than that. You should know how much I care about you and love you, and I’m sorry for not telling you that every day. I’m sorry for being a shitty friend, and I’m sorry for not treating you right. I’m sorry for not telling you that I want to be official and date you and love you. I still want to tell you all those things, you know. I was so dead-set on being with you in the “right way”, I forgot that the “right way” can be messy and awkward at times. I forgot that being open with all of our thoughts contributes to the messiness and awkwardness, but it also makes things right.

I know I haven’t been nearly as open with you as I should have been. I’m sorry. I want you to be in my life, in whatever way you’re comfortable with, and if all you want to be is friends, I’ll respect that. For what it’s worth, I want to be your boyfriend, officially, and call you the person I love, but this isn’t about me. This is about you, after I’ve been too cowardly to give you everything you want and deserve.

I’m sorry. I love you.

Yours,

Vernon

(P.S. The box holds a mood ring that reminded me of you. I want you to have it without any sort of pressure on how to move forward. I’m always ready to talk if you are.)

(11:49 pm) jules vern(e): goodnight y/n jules vern(e): don’t let the bedbugs bite jules vern(e): sweet dreams (<3) (?) (delivered)

You spend Saturday thinking, away from Vernon. It’s strange. You could get used to it, but you’re not sure if you want to.

By Sunday, you’ve made your decision, but you still want to hear what Vernon has to say. In the evening, you meet at the park near his house. It’s a strategic location— close enough to a road so that you can leave if things go awry, and close enough to Vernon’s house so that he can walk home at any time.

“Hey,” you say as a form of greeting.

“Hey,” he replies. He stands up from the bench he was sitting on, briefly glancing at the kids running around the playground before turning back to you. “Do you want to walk around?” You nod, and he gestures toward the path to his right. “Do you wanna head in that direction?”

“Sure.”

You walk in silence. Once you’ve gone a reasonable distance from the park, Vernon speaks up. “Did you, uh, get my letter?”

“I did. That explains some things, but it doesn’t excuse them,” you say, remembering your conversation with Tzuyu from yesterday.

“I know. I’m sorry. I promise that if you choose to give a relationship another chance, I’ll tell you exactly what I’m thinking and exactly how I feel. I… I told you how I feel in the letter, but I won’t mention it if you’re uncomfortable.”

“You love me,” you say, trying the words out. Somehow, they don’t feel as foreign as you’d imagined.

“I do.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Tzuyu said she told you to wait, but I don’t understand why you didn’t say anything. You knew from the very beginning that I liked you, but I didn’t know anything in return. I felt like I was waiting for you to make a decision about what to do, and I had no idea what you wanted.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to lose you, you know? I didn’t want to make any rash decisions and drive you away if things ended poorly. You started to feel distant recently, and I didn’t know what I could do to stop it. And then my actions ended up pushing you away anyway, since I’m a dumbass and don’t know how to communicate. I was so hellbent on doing things right, but I had such a warped idea of what ‘right’ was. I… I should’ve stopped and told you exactly what I was thinking, and then listening to what you wanted.”

“I get that,” you admit quietly. “I’m not blameless, either. I felt the same way sometimes. I was always unsure if my worries were reasonable based on our relationship that wasn’t really a relationship, and that made it hard for me to bring them up.”

“Of course they’re reasonable.” Vernon glances over at you, then looks down. “What are you thinking of right now?”

You turn onto his street as you briefly ponder. “I’m thinking of how I should’ve brought up all of my questions earlier instead of bottling them up. And… I’m thinking about how we were both so worried of losing our friendship, but you’ll always be with me, right? You’ll always be in my life in the way you’re meant to.”

“Right.”

“Right. That makes me feel so much better.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly.

“Vernon, what are you thinking of? And how did you get that mood ring?”

He scratches the back of his neck. “I’m thinking of how sorry I am for waiting so long to address this. And I had everything planned out: I was going to take you out on a picnic, give you the mood ring—which I saw at a craft fair last month—to reference our history, and ask you to be my girlfriend. And then last Saturday, I just… I wanted to kiss you so bad, and I finally let it happen. I was floating on cloud nine afterwards, but then Sofia asked if we were dating yet and I had to say no. She chewed me out for leading you on after you left.”

“That sounds like a very Sofia thing to do.”

“Right. I had seen the mood ring at that point, but I didn’t bring enough money to buy it at first. Once I did, I went back every weekend until I saw the same vendor last Sunday. But on that Sunday, I also wanted to spend more time with you and let you know that I cared, especially after that kiss, so I suggested going on a picnic. And then I was struggling to come up with a new confession while not leading you on before things were official. But, looking back, this all could have been prevented if I asked you out once I was sure I liked you. All the way back in January.”

You stop walking, standing still on his driveway. “January? Why didn’t you?”

“I was worried I’d mess things up. Tzuyu’s earlier advice didn’t exactly help either,” he laughs drily, stepping back to stand in front of you. “And, you know, insecurities are very persuasive, especially when you’re in love with an amazing person.” He looks up, almost shyly, but keeps eye contact. “But more than anything, I didn’t have anything special planned. You deserve more than a bland confession.”

“I don’t care about that, Vernon. I just want to be with you.” Slowly, you step closer to him, slipping your hand through his.

“Oh,” he says, voice cracking. He clears his throat, blushing. “Oh. Good to know.”

“Yeah. We can work through this, right? If we help each other out, we can make this work. Right?”

“Right. We’re in this together. And we’re doing it the right way this time, with labels and communication and all that jazz.” You nod when he looks at you for confirmation. “Y/n… will you be my girlfriend? Officially? Will you give me the honor of being your boyfriend?”

“I would love to, Vernon,” you smile. “I… I love you, Vernon.”

“Oh.” He breaks into a goofy grin. “Oh. I—oh. I love you, y/n.”

“Yeah.” You beam up at him, taking his free hand into your right hand.

“Yeah. Um, so, can I kiss—”

“Yes.”

“—you on the forehead?”

“Yes.”

You see a faint blush dusting his cheeks as he leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. He barely pulls away, his face mere inches away from yours. An overwhelming wave of happiness washes over you when he can’t stop grinning.

“Can I kiss—”

“Yes, Vernon, you can kiss me.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs to lean in, so quickly that your noses bump together and you giggle at his flustered expression. Your smile fades as he leans in slowly, pausing just before your lips meet. “Are you sure?” he singsongs.

Oh, how the turntables. Now you’re the one who’s flustered, but as your brain struggles to produce a response, your body moves on its own and closes the gap between your lips.

This kiss is an unspoken promise, an affirmation of your previous words. When Vernon releases your hand to cup your face, your heart melts down into your toes. You almost whine when he pulls away. Now that you know you can kiss Vernon as much as you’d like, whenever you’d like, you don’t think you’ll ever get enough.

Vernon kisses the tip of your nose. “I’ve been wanting to do that for so long. Do you forgive me for being an idiot?”

“You’re my idiot now. Of course I forgive you.”

And you’re okay. You’ll be okay. With Vernon by your side, how can you not?

“Wait,” Vernon says, interrupting your train of thought. “So did you like the mood ring?”

You lift up your necklace, bringing the new mood ring up to eye level. A beam of sunlight reflects off of the metal band, illuminating the ring in its full glory. It’s purple—a lilac color—a blend of blue, red, and pink.

It’s oddly fitting.

“I love it, Vernon.” He grins. There’s a familiar tenderness in his eyes, but it no longer makes your heart ache. It makes it swell with love instead, especially when Vernon pulls you inside his house to announce your relationship to his mom, planting kisses on your forehead, cheek, and shoulder every few seconds. As Vernon wraps you in his arms, listening to his mom coo over how you’re finally together, you feel blissfully at home in his embrace.

You finally know how to define your relationship. And so, in the end, you decide on purple.

Epilogue:

(4:49 pm) jules vern(e) 💜: me n josh n tzuyu are here nerdier than thou: Your neighbor’s dog barked at me so I barked back and now she’s staring at me help

(4:50 pm) you: One moment I’m looking for something nerdier than thou: Watchu looking for you: I’m trying to find who asked jules vern(e) 💜: lmao chewy granola bar: Lmao you: Lmao nerdier than thou: Hey :( you: Ha gottem

The three of them are waiting when you slip outside. Vernon’s in the back seat, and he greets you with a kiss on the cheek when you slide in Joshua’s car.

“The poor lady,” you announce. “She must have thought this neighborhood was a strict no-furry zone. You probably traumatized her dog for life.”

Joshua reaches back to swat the top of your head. “I’m not a furry!”

“I feel like we shouldn’t be hearing this conversation,” Vernon stage-whispers. Joshua swats him too.

“Stop it, guys,” Tzuyu chides. “You shouldn’t be dogging on him this much.”

“Thank you Tzu—wait a minute.” Tzuyu tries (and fails) to hold back a giggle as Joshua sighs. “I can’t with you.”

“Don’t worry, Josh. LA’s very friendly to furries. I’m sure you’ll find some of your kind in college.”

Tzuyu boos before Joshua can re-evaluate his life decisions. “I can’t believe you guys think the east coast is better. Must be lame not seeing me and Josh every day.”

“Shut up before you make me cry,” you say. It’s only half in jest. By the end of the swim team party at Minghao’s house tonight, you’re sure you’ll have cried at least three times over all your shared memories. “Oh yeah, wanna help me? I have a bet with your oddly prideful boyfriend about who’s gonna cry first.”

“At least you didn’t call me a furry,” Joshua mumbles. “Alright, I’m driving!” he announces loudly, preventing you from jumping back into the furry discourse.

Vernon slides into the middle seat as Joshua pulls out of your driveway, looping an arm around your shoulder. You lean into his side and stay there as you chat for the drive to Minghao’s house. Upon your arrival, Junhui immediately gives you bear hugs.

“I can’t believe we’re graduating.” He pauses, clearing his throat in a strangled-sounding fashion. “Anyways. Most of the underclassmen are here. Glad you made it. Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Joshua says, looking up and blinking away tears. You follow suit, as do Vernon, Tzuyu, and Junhui.

“Yeah. So. Does that mean I won the bet, Josh?” You fan at your eyes like that’ll drive away your tears. It doesn’t.

“Hey guys—oh no. We’re crying this early?” Minghao asks as he strolls up to the doorway.

“Maybe.” Tzuyu dabs at the corners of her eyes.

“C’mon, we can have a big cry-fest at the beach later. The people are waiting for their captains.” Minghao grins, but you can see his eyes watering up too.

The people get their captains a few minutes later, after they’ve collected themselves and can give a speech without crying. You spend the rest of the party moving from person to person, reminiscing with your teammates and wishing them the best of luck in the future.

After it’s over, you all hop into Minghao’s car to head toward the beach. The six of you sit on the sand, alternating between talking and quiet observation.

You love them. Each and every one of them. Even if Joshua will be in LA, Tzuyu will be on the west coast, Junhui will be in North Carolina, Minghao will be in NYC, and you and Vernon will be on the east coast, you know your bond is going to last far beyond college.

With a smile, you rest your head on Vernon’s shoulder. The six of you will be alright.

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