Chapter Text
“Your face looks like shit when you’re sad.”
Amid the debris of their hard-won battlefield victory—after they’d finally defeated the aliens and the Kiito Family, after Momo had returned to her normal size thanks to Okarun’s heroic MVP moment—while Momo and Okarun embraced and kissed in the middle of the wreckage like the leads of some sappy romance flick, Zuma, the obnoxious guy with a tacky eyebrow piercing, just had to open his mouth at Jiji.
Jiji squinted at him with clear disapproval, then kicked his side lightly to get him to shut the hell up.
“I’m not sad! I’m happy for Momo and Okarun! They’re my friends!” Jiji snapped back sharply, eyes narrowed.
Zuma snorted, obviously not buying it.
“I told you, man. Every time you’re sad, your face turns ten times uglier,” he teased, then jerked his chin toward the back of the ruined area. “Come on, let’s get outta here.”
Jiji let out a frustrated huff and cast a glance toward Momo and Okarun, still kissing like the protagonists of a cheesy drama while Vamola, Kinta and Rin whooped and cheered in the background.
His chest twinged just a little.
Momo and Okarun were two of his closest friends. He shouldn't be feeling like this. If they were happy, then he should be happy too. Otherwise... what did that say about him? Jiji didn’t want to be a bad person. He didn’t want to be someone rotten inside, the kind of person who sulks while his best friends finally get their happiness.
“They’re still at it, huh,” Zuma muttered, clicking his tongue. Without warning, he grabbed Jiji’s hand and tugged him away from the scene. “Enough with the kissing show, let’s go get some ramen! I’m starving!”
Jiji frowned in irritation. Zuma was always such a pain in the ass. He’d only recently joined their group and was already driving Jiji up the wall. Worst part? Zuma somehow knew— knew —about Jiji’s feelings for Momo from the get-go. Like he just sensed it. Jiji had no clue how he figured it out, but Zuma never missed a chance to poke at that sore spot, and that seriously did not sit well with him.
“There’s no ramen around here,” Jiji grumbled under his breath.
“Then I dunno, let’s get some instant noodles or whatever from a store. Anything’s better than watching those two lovebirds make out like we’re in some goddamn romantic action movie. Blech .” Zuma even made a fake retching noise for emphasis.
“Hey! Don’t talk like that about them, they’re my friends! They’ve been through a lot together, they deserve to be happy!” Jiji snapped, feeling the urge to defend Momo and Okarun with all his heart.
Zuma, still holding onto Jiji’s wrist and dragging him who-knows-where, tilted his head at Jiji’s outburst. He gave him a long, thoughtful look, though their feet kept moving farther from the battlefield’s epicenter.
“You deserve to be happy too, y’know,” Zuma said flatly.
Jiji flinched, caught off guard.
“I am happy!” he blurted, way too defensive.
“Are you?” Zuma raised a brow. “Being supportive for your friends while feeling like crap yourself —those things aren’t mutually exclusive. You can feel both. At the same time.”
His words hit Jiji like a punch to the chest. Like a pressure point he hadn’t realized existed until Zuma jabbed it.
“Doesn’t mean you’re a bad person for feeling like that,” Zuma added, casually, like he wasn’t dismantling Jiji’s entire emotional state with one sentence. “It just means you’re a fucking human.”
Jiji recoiled like he’d been burned.
“What the fuck , man? Are you some kind of mind-reader?!” His voice went up an octave.
Zuma just burst out laughing, full-volume and completely unbothered. They’d made it to a livelier part of town now, where a few people glanced at them with curiosity because of their disheveled state. Zuma didn’t care. He just kept leading the way like nothing was weird.
“I’m just naturally perceptive,” he replied after his laughter died down. They stopped in front of a convenience store, and Zuma pulled Jiji inside without a word. He grabbed two onigiri from the shelf and paid quickly, then shoved one into Jiji’s hands.
“I also happen to know you’re hungry right now. So.” He pushed Jiji into one of the seats out front. “Eat this.”
Jiji stared at the rice ball in disbelief.
“Why are you doing all this?” he asked, genuinely confused. The last ten minutes had been a whirlwind—Zuma dragging him away from Momo and Okarun just to shove food into his hand like it was some kind of emergency? The guy was out of his damn mind.
Zuma clicked his tongue, visibly annoyed.
“Unfortunately, I suck at watching other people be sad. Call it a savior complex or whatever, but I always get the damn urge to fix people’s crap if I can.” He took a bite of his own onigiri, speaking through the mouthful. “Now you know. So eat your fucking onigiri.”
“Huh,” was all Jiji could say, his tone flat.
He really didn’t know what else to say.
After chewing on the tuna-filled onigiri for a few seconds—seriously, how the hell did Zuma even know tuna was his favorite—Jiji eyed him suspiciously as the guy busied himself with his own food.
“So what, you make it your life mission to stop people from being sad?”
“Yeah, cursed with it since birth, I guess.” Zuma shrugged between bites. “That’s part of why I got into the whole board game mess. To save my friends. God forbid they suffer just because I couldn’t do anything.”
Jiji scoffed. “Bit hypocritical, don’t you think?” he muttered. “You go on about how I should be happy, meanwhile you’re just a self-sacrificing bastard. You’re no better than me, dude.”
“Sue me. At least I’m aware of my own crap,” Zuma shot back without missing a beat. “You, on the other hand? All that nonsense about being happy for Ayase-girl and Takakura-guy swapping spit?” He raised an eyebrow knowingly.
“I am happy!” Jiji protested, maybe a bit too forcefully, it instantly met with Zuma’s amused snort.
“You’re supportive and miserable at the same time, man. The sooner you admit it, the easier things’ll be.”
Jiji pouted, hating how much sense that actually made.
“So what if I am sad, huh?” Jiji challenged. “What are you gonna do about it? You think you can fix that?”
“Well, that’s clearly not my damn responsibility,” Zuma said flatly.
“But your savior complex clearly disagrees,” Jiji groaned. “You literally dragged me here just because you couldn’t stand watching me sulk, so might as well go all in and cheer me up properly!”
Zuma blinked, incredulous. “Is this your way of asking for help?” he asked, voice dripping with disbelief. His eyes sparkled with mischief, as irritating as ever.
“I don’t know!” Jiji threw his hands in the air, exasperated. Zuma just laughed, because of course he did.
“My advice? Date someone else. You’ll be too busy to mope over Momo, and eventually, you’ll forget all about her.”
Jiji frowned, unimpressed. “That’s a stupid idea. I don’t want to use someone just to move on. It wouldn’t be fair to them.”
“Not if that someone is me,” Zuma grinned wickedly.
“What?!” Jiji actually lost his voice for a second. For a moment, he looked like Zuma had just suggested they join a cult together. Was this guy completely out of his mind?
“You said you don’t want to date anyone because it wouldn’t be fair, right? Well, date me. I don’t care either way, since I don’t actually have feelings for you.”
The words were so absurd that Jiji’s jaw dropped open.
“That’s—you’re—that’s insane,” he stammered. “Also, I’m straight.”
“Man, you’re missing out,” Zuma smirked.
“You’re not ?!” Jiji’s voice rose in disbelief.
“Eh. The world’s too depressing to limit yourself to just one gender. That’s how I see it.”
“So this is what all this crap is about? You’ve got a damn crush on me, so now you’re propositioning me?!”
“Should’ve known your ego was as massive as the part of your brain you never use,” Zuma chuckled.
“Stop insulting me! You’re the one who offered to date me, you absolute psycho!” Every second with Zuma made Jiji feel like he was slipping deeper into madness. If people weren’t walking in and out of the convenience store, he’d have kicked Zuma’s ass five minutes ago.
“And I offered because it seemed like a good idea—harmless, even. Plus,” Zuma leaned back in his chair, looking unbearably pleased with himself, “I’ve seen the way you look at that Takakura-guy. You’re not just hung up on Ayase Momo. You wanna be with both of them.”
“That’s—huh.” Jiji’s brain grinding to a halt,too stunned to even argue. Zuma’s theory was so out there, Jiji didn’t know where to start unpacking it. But Zuma was unnervingly perceptive… so who knows?
“Just give it a month, man. We’re gonna have so much fun together,” Zuma said with another shit-eating grin.
And—God help him—Jiji actually considered it for a split second.
“What does dating you even entail?” he asked cautiously, his tone tinged with suspicion.
Zuma’s eyes gleamed like he’d just won a bet.
“ Now we’re talking.”
.
Turns out… the first day of dating Zuma—on a Sunday, no less—felt exactly like gaining yet another annoying guy friend. The whole thing started with a text that popped up on Jiji’s phone the second he opened his eyes:
"Yo, let’s go get sushi. But you're paying since you're richer than me."
If that was Zuma’s idea of cheering someone up, it was absolute garbage. It only made Jiji more annoyed, so he did what any rational person would do—he called him on the spot.
“Can you stop being such a pain in the ass?!” Jiji barked, skipping all pleasantries.
On the other end, Zuma gave a snort. “I am asking you out, though.”
“And I’m supposed to pay?!”
“Like I said, you’ve got more money. Don’t be stingy. I’ll take you somewhere else after this, make it a little romantic or whatever.”
Jiji rolled his eyes so hard he could practically see his own brain.
“I already made plans with the others. We’re eating at Momo’s place today,” he said, shutting it down before it could spiral further.
There was a pause on the other end. Jiji braced himself—expecting the judgment, the guilt trip, the passive-aggressive digs Zuma was fully capable of. Momo was, afterall, the reason he’d been a bit emotionally scrambled lately. But Zuma’s answer wasn’t what he’d predicted.
“Oh, cool. Then invite me too.”
“…I kinda thought you’d try to stop me from going,” Jiji admitted, blinking in disbelief.
“Why would I? Ayase Momo’s your friend. Same with Takakura. I’m your boyfriend, not your warden.”
Jiji winced. The word boyfriend hit weird coming from Zuma’s mouth. So casual. So indifferent. Like it was just some label he’d picked up off the ground and didn’t really know what to do with.
“I don’t know! I just figured maybe staying away from her would help me get over things faster.”
“That’s not how this works. You gotta ask yourself—do you still wanna be friends with Ayase Momo?”
“Yeah, obviously. Her and Okarun both.”
“Then don’t ditch them. What you need’s not distance. You need a distraction. You need me. So, take me with you.”
“You just want a free meal.”
“Now you got it,” Zuma said with a snort, laughing.
Jiji let out a long-suffering sigh. Of course. And just like that, Zuma was part of the plan—with Momo’s blessing, thankfully.
Since Zuma didn’t know where Momo lived, they agreed to meet up at the park nearby. Jiji had offered to pick him up since it was on the way, but Zuma turned him down instantly for some mysterious Zuma reason. Whatever. Not worth arguing over. They met halfway and started the walk toward Momo’s place, the late morning sun casting long shadows as they strolled down the quiet street.
Zuma wasn’t much of a talker, but somehow, he always knew what to say to keep things going. It only took one glance at the keychain dangling from Jiji’s bag for him to crack things wide open.
“That a Pokemon?”
Jiji lit up. “Whimsicott! I’m obsessed . It’s fast and unpredictable, total chaos gremlin energy—but, like, in a fun way.”
Zuma raised an eyebrow, eyeing the fluffy shape like it had personally offended him. “Looks like a sentient sheep puff.”
Jiji gasped like he’d been slapped. “Excuse you?! It’s strategic ! ” He smacked Zuma’s shoulder indignantly.
Zuma chuckled. “From the way you’re describing it, sounds like a menace.”
“Well it is a menace. That’s the concept. But it’s cute ! ” Jiji snapped, and followed it up by kicking Zuma’s shin without mercy.
Zuma hissed in pain but barely flinched. “So basically, you.”
Jiji recoiled in horror. “I’m not a menace—what the fuck!” he shouted. Then, blinking mid-tirade, he paused. “Wait… did you just call me cute ? ”
Because that definitely sounded like what Zuma was implying.
Zuma just grinned, the corner of his mouth quirking up like he knew exactly what he’d done.
“I have eyes.”
Jiji’s brain blue-screened for a full two seconds. “You’re insane,” he muttered, shaking his head as he tried to will away the warmth creeping up his cheeks. “Your flirting sucks, by the way.”
“You’re blushing though.”
“And you’re delusional. Great. Just my luck.”
They kept walking after that, with Jiji effortlessly chattering non-stop about Pokemon. It wasn’t even his fault—Zuma just kept asking things, poking at the topic, asking the exact kind of questions that made Jiji spiral into full-blown explanation mode. Before they knew it, they’d arrived at Momo’s house. From outside, they could faintly hear Kinta being loud and over-the-top, his voice echoing through the walls like a one-man-circus.
Jiji grinned reflexively.
He really missed moments like this. Normal ones. Just spending time with his friends. No aliens attacking, no supernatural threats looming, no existential dread creeping up from behind. Just simple, carefree get-togethers filled with laughter and zero pressure.
Weirdly enough, Zuma caught on to what he was feeling with just one glance. Without a word, he elbowed Jiji in the ribs, a grin spreading on his face to match the soft warmth in his eyes.
“You love your friends, huh?” he asked.
Jiji wasn’t sure what kind of face he was making, but whatever it was, he didn’t think he wore his emotions that obviously. Zuma was some kind of wizard then—Jiji was starting to seriously suspect the guy had some kind of actual mind-reading power.
“Relax, I can’t read minds,” Zuma said out of nowhere, only making it worse—proving Jiji’s point exactly. Jiji pointed at him in alarm.
“Then what the hell was that ?!” he demanded, his voice shooting up. Zuma just laughed.
“Your thoughts are just that easy to read, dude,” Zuma said with a shrug, then tilted his head toward Momo’s front gate. “C’mon, let’s head in? Bet you can’t wait to see the rest of your crew.”
Jiji huffed… but then something occurred to him.
“Don’t say anything about our trial dating thing, okay?” he blurted, his voice quick and nervous. Just the thought of Zuma randomly dropping it on everyone— hey, we’re dating now —was already giving Jiji a brain cramp. He could practically see Momo and Okarun’s shocked faces. Kinta and Rin probably wouldn’t care, and he honestly wasn’t sure if Vamola would even understand what it meant. But still. It was nerve-wracking.
He was a little worried Zuma would brush it off, being the type who doesn’t really care what people think. But instead, Zuma nodded without hesitation.
“Got it,” he said simply.
Jiji felt strangely anticlimactic about it, but sighed and steeled himself as they stepped into Momo’s house.
To his surprise, even with the new additions that afternoon—Rin and Kouki joining the meal and all—it still felt as warm and comfortable as always. Not even a hint of awkwardness. Grandma Seiko had gone all-out, cooking up mountains of sushi and sashimi. Kinta and Okarun were in a competitive frenzy, trying to out-eat each other. As usual, Jiji took up his role as the event’s ever-enthusiastic cheerleader, genuinely hyping them up like they were on live TV. Vamola joined in beside him, copying his excitement down to the gestures and volume..
Rin, Kouki, and Momo were doubled over laughing so hard their stomachs probably hurt. And Zuma—
Zuma was watching him. Just… watching, with a faint, crooked smile that made Jiji short-circuit on the spot. His makeshift cheer-dance came to an abrupt halt. Vamola stopped too, confused by the sudden pause beside her.
“What’re you staring at?” Jiji asked stiffly.
“Yeah, what’re you staring at?” Vamola echoed beside him, right on cue, intentionally mimicking his tone.
Zuma just shrugged and picked up another piece of salmon nigiri, casually popping it into his mouth. “Don’t mind me. Carry on,” he said with his mouth still half full of rice.
Jiji scowled. Unbelievable. No manners whatsoever, he grumbled inwardly, completely losing the mood to keep dancing.
“Come on, Vamola-chan, let’s just eat,” Jiji said, tugging her to sit down beside him. When Zuma made a small amused sound next to him, Jiji elbowed him in the ribs without looking. Zuma responded by calmly placing a piece of tuna nigiri on the plate in front of Jiji.
Jiji narrowed his eyes. Now what the hell is that supposed to mean?
“You like tuna,” Zuma simply commented.
Jiji could only roll his eyes—but still ate the tuna nigiri Zuma had placed on his plate. Zuma watched him with that annoying, smug grin, and Jiji responded with an irritated click of his tongue.
Still, beyond their usual banter, Zuma blended in with the group surprisingly well. He wasn’t chatty like Jiji, Kinta, Momo, or Aira—nor did he bounce around like Vamola. But he also wasn’t as reserved as Kouki or as awkward as Rin. Zuma struck a perfect balance: asking the right questions, giving no unnecessary information about himself, and somehow never seeming like the new guy in their circle.
At one point, Zuma asked about aliens in his usual deadpan tone, and Okarun, naturally, launched into an enthusiastic explanation. Jiji, for a moment, felt irrationally annoyed—was Zuma trying to steal his one and only guy best friend? Okarun was supposed to be his ride-or-die, after all. But somehow Zuma picked up on his shift in mood and casually looped Jiji back into the conversation, smooth as anything. Just like that, the tension vanished.Kinta joined in too, and within moments, the table was a whirlwind of stories and laughter again.
Like Zuma had always been there.
They ended the day playing baseball in Momo’s front yard, the sky turning shades of gold and rose. Eventually, Rin, Kouki and Aira said their goodbyes and headed home. Kinta tagged along, claiming he needed to “protect the ladies” on their way back.
Vamola had already gone inside earlier—too sleepy to keep her eyes open any longer—leaving just Momo and Okarun—who were now walking around hand in hand, giggling like lovesick idiots, and then Zuma and Jiji.
Zuma bussied himself gathering up the scattered baseball gear, while Jiji stood off to the side, not entirely sure what to do with himself.
He didn’t want to get in the way of Momo and Okarun’s romantic moment, so he ended up tagging along with Zuma instead, despite not offering any actual help.
“If we held hands like them right now, you think they'd freak out?” Zuma whispered with a mischievous grin playing at his lips.
Jiji frowned, confused. “Why would we hold hands?” he asked blankly—until Zuma scoffed, and it finally clicked. Right. They were supposed to be “dating.” That little trial relationship thing. Jiji had genuinely forgotten, especially with how Zuma had just acted like one of the guys all day. No special treatment, no weird tension. They barely had any alone time, constantly blending in the group dynamic with Okarun and Kinta.
“Let’s save the hand-holding for the walk home then—speaking of which, how about we head out?” Zuma tilted his head toward Momo and Okarun, who were still holding hands and giggling like it was their own private rom-com.
Jiji snorted. “Before we turn into third—and fourth—wheels, yeah. Let’s go.”
.
Instead of actually going home like they said, Zuma ended up dragging Jiji out for a random stroll through the city. Claimed he just wanted to "get some air," but the longer they walked, the more it seemed like they weren’t exactly wandering aimlessly. Their path curved into quiter streets, slipping into outskirts.
Jiji had no clue where they were going, but the silence between them wasn’t awkward. If anything, it was kind of peaceful.
Zuma led him through narrow alleyways until they stepped into a wide open field blanketed with wildflowers. The air smelled faintly of grass. Two stray cats were playing near the edge of the clearing, completely undisturbed by their presence.
At first, Jiji didn’t even notice the cats until Zuma elbowed him and nodded toward the playful duo.
“There. Go play with them,” he said, like it was the most natural instruction in the world.
Jiji narrowed his eyes. He was pretty sure he’d never told Zuma he liked cats, and yet this kind of thing happened so often he was past being surprised.
“It’s cause you like Whimsicott. They kinda have the same vibe,” Zuma added without being asked.
Jiji let out a soft huff, but he didn’t argue.
So he did exactly what Zuma told him to: crouched down and started playing with the cats, letting himself get caught up in their soft fur and playful swats, while Zuma hung back and watched from the sidelines. For a while, he forgot the world around him. He lost track of time completely.
When he finally looked up again, Zuma was already standing in front of him, holding out a popsicle, bright red and unmistakably watermelon flavored.
Jiji’s whole face lit up instantly.
“This time you’re wrong!” he shouted triumphantly, grinning like he just beat a final boss in a game.
Zuma raised an eyebrow, clearly confused. “Wrong about what?”
“I don’t like watermelon! I like grapes!” Jiji declared, as if the announcement was earth shattering. Finally, Zuma had gotten something wrong about him. Proof that he wasn’t some all-knowing freak who could read Jiji like a book. He was a regular, flawed human being!
Zuma, however, just let out a low chuckled, amused. Then he reached into the plastic bag he’d been carrying and pull out another popsicle. This one, it’s grape flavored.
Jiji blinked. His mouth opened in shock, almost ready to scream from how freaked out he was.
But Zuma cut him off before he could start yelling, casually explaining, “Well, I like grapes too, that’s why I bought it. But if you prefer it, you can have it. Not like I hate watermelon anyway.”
He gestured with a quick nod. “Come on, enough playing with cats. I wanna take you somewhere else.”
Jiji narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Where?”
Zuma clicked his tongue in fake annoyance, “Could you sound a little more excited?” he grumbled, then grabbed Jiji’s wrist to drag him along. “You’ll see,” he said simply.
The grand mystery of “you’ll see” turned out to be the edge of a quiet river. The current flowed gently, and the water was crystal clear Jiji could see smooth stones glinting beneath the surface. Cicadas buzzed somewhere in the distance, the only real sign of life.
Zuma led them to a grassy patch near the bank, sat down cross-legged, and pulled out the plastic bag he’d been carrying.
Then, with uncharacteristic excitement, he started unpacking it—revealing a whole stash of snacks he must have bought while Jiji was busy with the cats earlier.
Jiji stared at the mountain of sweets: cotton candy, lollipops, cheap chips, and a bunch of random candy you’d expect elementary school kids to hoard.
“…And now what?” Jiji asked, brow furrowed, genuinely puzzled.
“Now we watch the sunset while eating candy. Romantic, right?” Zuma grinned, all teeth and mischief, like a kid with a secret stash of fireworks.
Jiji snorted, unimpressed.
“I don’t think it’s romantic. This is just two guys hanging out, snacking, watching the sunset,” he shot back. Where the hell did Zuma even learn about what counts as romantic? The guy was the most nonchalant dude Jiji had ever met. Chill to the point of apathy. How was this romantic?
“Just wait till the sun starts setting,” Zuma replied, full of confidence as he unwrapped a chewy candy and popped it into his mouth.
“Oh yeah? Is the sunlight gonna hit my face and suddenly you’ll be mesmerized?” Jiji teased, raising an eyebrow dramtically.
Zuma burst out laughing. “I’m already mesmerized tho.” he said.
Jiji choked on air. For a split second, he almost took it seriously—until he noticed Zuma’s face stayed perfectly neutral. No flustered blush, no shy glances. He wasn’t even looking at Jiji, just calmly watching the riplles across the river like nothing happened.
Was Zuma serious? Or was all of this a joke? Some kind of elaborate prank because he was bored and Jiji, being the hopelessly gullible idiot he was, just went along with it?
“Do you even actually like guys?” Jiji blurted out. He couldn’t take it anymore. If this was a joke, he needed to know before he made a complete fool of himself.
It wasn’t just embarrassment—he could handle being teased. But the idea that he might be the punchline to something tender… that messed with him. Maybe more than it should’ve.
But then Zuma answered easily. “I like everyone,” he added a second after, “I just love people.”
Jiji stared. That wasn’t helpful—only made things more confusing. Like, people like that exist? People who… just liked people?
“Red flag then,” Jiji muttered under his breath. “If you like everyone, then you can like someone else too when we dated?”
Zuma laughed again, leaning back on his palms, totally unbothered. “You’re mixing up attraction and commitment, man.” he said. “If your question is whether I can be attracted to someone else while dating you, yeah, totally, since gender doesn’t matter to me.But would I act on it? No. Once I decide to commit, I’m all in. We’re together, I’m locked in. That’s just how I roll.”
Jiji blinked, taken aback. “Ugh, you’re trying so hard to sound cool,” he muttered. But damn it—the truth was… it was kind of cool.
Which only made his curiosity grow stronger.
“So, how did you even know that gender doesn’t matter to you?” Jiji asked, genuinely curious.
“I just love connecting with people. Like, really learning about them,” Zuma explained, his voice quieter now, more grounded. “What draws me in is who they are. That’s why I pitched this trial thing to you.” He turned his gaze back to Jiji, looking him straight in the eye. “You need a distraction, and I want to know more about you. Feels like a win-win, right?
Jiji didn’t know how to respond to that.
“But… I don’t even know if I can like guys,” he said honestly. “I don’t want you expecting something from me that I might not be able to give.”
“And that’s exactly why it’s called a trial,” Zuma said, calm as ever. “We try. If it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t. No hard feelings.” He looked Jiji dead in the eye. “So don’t stress about it, alright?”
Jiji nodded reluctantly. As Zuma asked that last question, the sunlight shifted — warm, golden rays spilling across his face as the sky began to blush with orange and crimson hues. The kind of light that made everything feel still for a second.
Jiji fell quiet.
A soft breeze stirred the grass around them, soft and steady, ruffling their hair. It wasn’t cold, but Jiji felt the wind slip between his fingers, cool against his skin.
Zuma, who had been watching him out of the corner of his eyes, turned fully toward the horizon.
“There. The sunset. Red and beautiful,” he murmured, like he was talking to himself more than anyone else.
Jiji followed his gaze, eyes tracing the warm streaks across the sky. His chess felt oddly calm.
“Whenever life starts feeling too heavy… when it feels like I’m drowning in it, I come here,” Zuma said, voice low and almost reverent. “To watch the sun rise, or set. Because seeing it reminds me, even when it disappears, the sun’s not really gone. It’s just lighting up another part of the world for a while.”
He paused for a beat, the silence holding like a breath.
“Night doesn’t stay dark forever, you know,” he continued. “We just have to trust that the sun’s gonna come back.”
And just like that, Jiji was completely speechless.
Something warm bloomed inside him, something too unfamiliar to name, but soft and comforting in a way that made him want to hold onto it. It curled around his ribs like a hug from the inside. Unable to come up with any serious response, Jiji blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
“Is this what you meant by romantic?” he asked, half-playing, half-serious.
Zuma grinned.
“Nah,” he said. Then, without warning, he took Jiji’s hand, tugged him gently clooser—and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
Jiji sat there, wide-eyed, cheeks burning.
Zuma burst into laughter, loud, unbothered, genuine. And he didn’t let go of Jiji’s hand. Held it tight, like he somehow knew Jiji needed the warmth more than he’d admit.
“So, that a yes to this trial dating?” Ask Zuma, voice low and teasing.
“Yeah, whatever.” Jiji muttered, his whole face still flushed crimson as he tightened his grip on Zuma’s hand, like it might ground him or stop his heart from doing backflips.
.