Chapter Text
It's difficult to settle your stomach. Trees blur by the windows for hours on end. The back of your tiny silver sedan is packed to the brim with all your belongings, and the love of your life sits next to you in the driver's seat. One hand grips the wheel, and the other rests atop your thigh. He smiles at you whenever your eyes find their way over.
It's difficult, now, even all these years later, not to grab him by the face and kiss him every time he looks at you.
But there's something else, too, that's been bothering you. Something that has made your typical road trip anxiety turn into near panic. You drum your fingers on the top of your thigh. You grip Soobin's hand. You sing along to the radio. None of it is enough to distract from that anxiety—especially as you near closer to your boyfriend's hometown.
You make one last stop, about two hours out from your destination. A small rest stop off the highway. You get out to stretch your legs, trying not to think about the inevitable reunion that will occur moments after you arrive at the new apartment you and Soobin secured. You should be excited. You are excited.
It's been six years since you met Soobin, and nearly five since the start of your relationship. This huge step isn't daunting. It isn't. Moving in together across the country has always been something the two of you have wanted, and moving back to Soobin's hometown just made sense. Unfortunately, it's not the Soobin of it all that's driving you insane.
Soobin has always made you feel comfortable and confident, happy and loved. There's no insecurity there, and you pray there never will be.
One source of tension, however, has always existed like a ghost just outside the relationship—haunting you.
"It's going to be fine," Soobin says, catching the look on your face, the haze that's hovered over you like a rain cloud for the past several days of driving. He lets the gas pump by itself and moves toward where you're leaning against the car, placing one hand on the top frame of the vehicle while his other hand comes up to touch your chin. He smiles, and it's almost impossible not to smile back. "I promise," he says, and you trust him.
Your smile isn't forced, but he still catches the wariness in it, the uncertainty. The way your eyes don't fully lock onto his. Even though you trust him, and he knows you trust him, he can tell the difference between you feeling better and you pretending to feel better. If anyone else knew you this well, it would be annoying. But so many things aren't annoying when it comes to him.
"He doesn't like me," you say, even though you've said it so many times before. Even though you both know it to be the truth. It feels good to say it anyway, to declare it—so when things inevitably go wrong later, you'll be able to say, See, I told you he doesn't like me.
Soobin sighs. This must be a great source of contention for him, too. Is he just as stressed, just as anxious, as you are—only better at hiding it? Maybe you should put on a braver face, be more positive, for him.
It's difficult, though, when it's his best friend who hates your guts. It's not like you're blameless, really. Although it did feel like that at first. Now, however, it's boiled into something between the two of you, a bitter rivalry, constant bickering, and anger that feels more like hatred from his side. And the way he looks at you sometimes—it's like he really hates you. And what are you supposed to do with that, when he's your boyfriend's best friend, when you're moving in next door, when you're going to be spending so much more time together than just vacations and quick trips home?
"He likes you," Soobin emphasizes, even though he must know it isn't true. If anyone knows what's going on inside Yeonjun's head, it's him. Sometimes it feels like they have an entire secret language you can't decipher. They can exchange full conversations with just a glance.
"You're not a very good liar," you say, with a small smile, attempting to feel lighter about the whole thing. If you can joke about it, it can't be that serious, right? "Besides," you say, reaching out to grab him, hands holding onto each side of his open hoodie so you can pull him down closer to you. "He likes you. I'm just there."
The gas pump clicks off to the right, but neither of you move.
He just smiles again, slipping his hand into your hair. He looks around, pretending to care if anyone can see the two of you, before he lowers his lips to yours.
It is a good distraction. You have to give him that. But it only works as long as his lips are on yours, and soon enough, you're back in the car, and the anxiety starts anew.
THREE YEARS AGO
The first time you met Yeonjun, he came to visit over Christmas break. It was your first Christmas with Soobin, the first Christmas where you stayed in town, neither choosing to go back home to visit your families. And it was Yeonjun's first time, too. His first time visiting Soobin at school. His first time meeting you.
Your college apartment was a mess. A small one-bedroom stuffed with books and cluttered with trinkets.
You remember being excited. This was Soobin's best friend, after all, and you'd heard so much about him—all good things.
It hadn't even been much of a conversation, deciding the plans for the holiday. Soobin brought it up, and you were delighted at the idea of his friend coming to visit. Nothing in your mind signaled a red flag. This was someone Soobin cared about, and if he cared about Yeonjun, that meant you would, too. And besides, you wanted—more than anything—for Soobin to have everything he ever wanted.
It was unfortunate that thing ended up being Yeonjun.
You flitted about the small apartment, rearranging decorations, putting last-minute touches on the Christmas Eve dinner you'd spent hours preparing—cooking is not your strong suit, but you tried. It was important to you, really fucking important, to make a good first impression. The place looked nice. A few of your college friends sat on the couch, sharing a bottle of wine and picking at the appetizers you'd left out.
But you couldn't sit still.
Soobin had left over two hours ago to pick him up from the airport, and your stomach had been an absolute mess the moment he stepped out the door. You wanted so badly to make a good first impression. That's what you remember so clearly about that night. Just how badly you wanted him to like you.
And he did, at first.
They appeared at your door sometime later, covered in a light dusting of snow. Soobin had a bundle of gifts in his arms, and you smiled at the sight of him. You leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek, just as Yeonjun appeared behind him.
"Hey," you said, offering a warm smile, trying to be inviting. You introduced yourself and stepped aside to let them both in.
Soobin gave your hand a tight squeeze before disappearing to place the gifts beneath the small tree you'd crammed into the corner of the apartment, leaving you and Yeonjun alone in the entryway, looking at one another.
He seemed to be studying you. Now, you look back and wonder if he was looking for flaws, cracks that he could exploit later. Things that were wrong with you that he could point out to Soobin.
But then, he looked harmless.
"Hey," Yeonjun said. "Nice to finally meet you."
It seemed genuine at the time. But it was another one of those things that you would question for years to come.
"Yeah, you too," you said. "I've heard so much about you."
"All bad, I'm assuming."
"Oh, of course," you teased.
He smiled. It caught you off guard, how handsome he was. You never got used to Soobin's attractiveness, either. Every time you saw him, even two years into your relationship, it caught you off guard. Yeonjun was the same. With dark hair and pouty lips, he looked at you—for a moment—in that same completely captivating way that Soobin did. Like you were the only person in the world.
Something shifted in the middle of the evening. Yeonjun sat at the bar counter, looking into the kitchen with a glass of wine in his hand, watching as you and Soobin finished dinner. He engaged in offhand conversation, quipping back and forth with both of you. His eyes followed both of you around the room in a way you didn't find strange at the time.
"Open," you said, holding a mini-marshmallow poised to throw into Soobin's mouth.
He followed your order, and you tossed the marshmallow perfectly into his mouth. He high-fived you, and you both laughed.
"Cute," Yeonjun said, with a laugh of his own.
Soobin grabbed a marshmallow. "Your turn," he said, aiming at Yeonjun's face. Yeonjun didn't budge.
The smile on your face faltered when you looked at Yeonjun. He wasn't looking at Soobin, wasn't preparing himself to engage in the game you were all playing. Instead, he was looking at you again.
Soobin threw the marshmallow anyway, and it bounced off Yeonjun's cheek. You snickered, and Yeonjun pressed his lips into a tight line.
"Tough crowd," you said, and Soobin smiled.
Yeonjun didn't look away from you. His gaze was so serious, so trained on you. Your lips parted because you wanted to say something. But the way he looked at you had you locked completely in place, unable to form words. Because why did he look so upset, so angry, all of a sudden?
Soobin noticed after you did and laughed to brush off the awkwardness that had developed seemingly out of nowhere.
Yeonjun raised his empty glass of wine and got up from the stool. "Need more wine," he said, and disappeared across the room, letting himself get swallowed whole by the rest of their friends and their inquisitive attitudes. Soobin turned to you, and you looked at him with wide, confused eyes.
"What was that about?" you asked.
Soobin wrapped an arm low around your waist and pulled you closer to him. "I don't know," he said, peppering kisses on your nose, cheeks, and jaw. "I'm sure it's fine."
It wasn't fine. Just as they were about to sit down for dinner, Yeonjun pulled Soobin aside. He held up a hand, thumb pointed toward the door. Yeonjun's eyes crossed the room, finding yours. You couldn't hold his gaze and looked away before he could. A deep furrow developed in Soobin's brow, but they spoke too low for you to hear over the sound of your other friends.
But then the front door was opening, and Yeonjun was walking out of it.
For a long time, Soobin stood with his arms hanging at his sides, staring at the door, like he wanted to follow Yeonjun out.
Eventually, he took a seat next to you at the table, clearly uncomfortable. The dinner went on without Yeonjun, and everyone enjoyed the meal you and Soobin cooked together, but every time your eyes drifted to Soobin, it was dreadfully obvious how upset he was.
After the rest of your friends left, you found Soobin in the kitchen and tugged him away from the dishes to settle in with you on the couch.
You didn't say anything, just rubbed your thumb on the back of his hand while he rested his head on your shoulder.
"Did something happen?" you asked, after some time had passed. The silence, backfilled with faint Christmas music, was getting to you—as was the lack of answers and the confusion surrounding the weird encounter with a friend you'd been looking forward to meeting. "It didn't seem like he liked me very much."
That made Soobin perk up. "No, that's not it—" he started, meeting your eyes. That softness about him that had enchanted you years prior had never left. He still looked at you like you were everything in the entire universe, like you could never hurt him. Like he would never hurt you.
It was nice to be naive.
"It's just…" Soobin started again, trying to figure out how to get his words across. "Yeonjun is never anywhere he doesn't want to be. I just don't know why he didn't want to be here."
The hurt in his voice cowed you, made you hate Yeonjun, a little bit, for hurting Soobin. And maybe, it made you hate yourself, too, for not being good enough. For not charming Yeonjun, for not making the grand first impression you'd hoped. For not getting him to stay.
"Maybe we should go talk to him," you said. "He must be back at your place, right?"
Soobin sighed. "Probably, yeah."
You were determined to make that good first impression, determined to figure out what had gone wrong and fix it. You just wanted to fix it.
You tugged on his hand one more time, pulling him upright. "Come on then," you said. "Let's go."
"I don't know if this is a good idea," Soobin said.
"What?" you asked, a wide smile on your lips, empowered by the idea of putting all the pieces back together. "You don't think I'm charming enough?"
"You are very charming," Soobin said, smiling enough that his dimples appeared on his cheeks, which only made you smile more. A vicious circle of smiling at one another, an overt happiness—a couple who did not know what was to come. But wasn't that always the way? The happiness before the downfall, that feeling of nothing could ever feel like this, just before it never does again.
You left your small apartment on Christmas Eve, walking out into a blustering snowstorm. The drive took much longer than normal. Traffic was backed up, and the snow made everything worse. By the time you made it to Soobin's apartment, your hands were freezing, and you were beginning to think that your grand plan was kind of a dud.
Soobin let you in, and the warmth of the apartment immediately made you feel better. Yeonjun, however, sitting on the edge of the couch with one hand propping up his head, watching The Polar Express, didn't seem to feel any better at the intrusion.
"I thought you were staying at her place," Yeonjun said, barely moving to look at him.
"Hello to you, too," you said.
Yeonjun's position changed then, as if he hadn't realized you were even in the room before. His head snapped to the side to look at you, his eyes flicking from your face to your feet, the look of disgust on his face evident.
What had you even done to him? That was the thought that still plagued you. You'd been nothing but nice. Extremely cordial! A good host. There was no reason at all for him to be acting that way.
"Yeah, I was planning on it," Soobin said. "But wanted to make sure you were okay," he said. "You came all this way, feels wrong to abandon you here on Christmas Eve."
But Yeonjun hardly appeared to be listening to what Soobin said. He was just staring at you. "Listen, if I did something…," you started.
"It's fine," Yeonjun said, despite the fact that it did not sound fine. "Sorry for leaving, really."
You raised a brow. "You don't seem sorry." This earned you a glance from Soobin. Not a glare, but a confused look. A don't push him, kind of look.
"I'm sorry," he said again. "Did you want me to get on my knees and beg for forgiveness?"
Soobin choked on his saliva.
"What's your problem?" you said, raising your voice a bit out of pure confusion and a bubbling rage that started in your gut. Everything had been completely fine for the first hour or so. You'd gotten along fine. He'd even laughed at some of your poor attempts at jokes. He'd seemed nice. So, when had everything taken such a violent turn?
Yeonjun stood, crossing his arms over his chest. With lips pursed, he looked at you, then back to Soobin. Soobin stood speechless, trying to figure out some way to diffuse the situation. He knew you—which meant he knew you could get mean when someone deserved it. And he knew Yeonjun—which meant he knew that he deserved it. A recipe for disaster.
"I don't have a problem," Yeonjun said, a smile appearing on his lips. It felt mocking, condescending. "I think you're great."
"Okay," Soobin said, stepping in between you and Yeonjun and the decreasing distance between you. "We're not doing this," he said.
"Doing what?" Yeonjun asked, batting his lashes.
You didn't stand down. Your arms had crossed against your chest at some point, and the scowl on your lips wasn't going to melt away simply because Soobin wanted to avoid an awkward situation. If you focused on him for more than a few seconds, looking at Soobin could have fixed any situation. But you didn't look at him. Maybe you wanted to be mad about this.
"I just want to know what his problem with me is," you said, the grit in your voice increasingly apparent. "I invited you to my house. I wanted to spend Christmas with you because you're important to him," you pointed at Soobin. "And he's important to me. I didn't do anything to you."
"Wow, Soobin, you really know how to pick 'em," Yeonjun said, with a lopsided smile that gave way to the fact that he was having way too much fun pushing your buttons.
"Yeonjun, cut it out," Soobin said. It was aggressive or even angry. He was asking nicely. "She's my girlfriend. Be nice to her."
You resisted the urge to stick your tongue out at him like a child. The pleased expression did reach your eyes, and a slow smirk crept across your lips.
"We'll see," Yeonjun said, visibly deflating. He dropped back onto the couch.
Your hands clenched at your sides out of pure annoyance and made the desire to wring Yeonjun's neck, just a little bit. You threw your hands into the air. "I'm going to bed."
"You're staying here?" Yeonjun asked, suddenly alert again.
Soobin sighed as you disappeared into the bedroom, leaving him to deal with whatever problem was brewing under Yeonjun's skin.
By the time Soobin came to bed, you were long asleep. You woke hours later, curled up against Soobin's body, wearing your clothes, mascara smudged around your eyes. It was late enough, right? Yeonjun had to be asleep on the couch. You chanced it, peeling yourself away from Soobin and sneaking quietly out, letting the door latch quietly behind you.
Yeonjun cleared his throat. He was lying on the couch with his shirt off, a blanket half covering him, his arms folded under the back of his head. He studied you with those same eyes, still trying to figure something out.
You ignored him, kept walking toward the bathroom on the other side of the living room.
"Hey," Yeonjun said as he sat up, the blanket falling away to reveal more of his chest. You didn't look. Or, at least, you tried not to. He was handsome, yes, but he wasn't Soobin. You stopped in your tracks, letting your hands fall to your sides in exasperation.
"What?" you hissed, just above a whisper.
Soobin would sleep through anything, but you were still attempting to be considerate.
"I want to talk."
"I don't," you said.
He stood, letting the blanket fall away. At least he was wearing pants, thank God. You crossed your arms over your chest and inclined your head to look up at him as he approached. "What do you want?"
"I'm sorry," he said.
It caught you completely off guard.
"I wanted to say I'm sorry."
"You're sorry?" you asked, because to be honest, you weren't sure what was fucking happening at all. Was this a dream that you'd wake up from at any moment? Because there was no way he was actually standing in front of you apologizing.
He didn't say anything else.
"Sorry for what?" You asked, a brief smile crossing your lips, pleased with yourself. "I don't even know what your problem is."
"Do you have to make this more difficult than it already is?" Yeonjun asked.
You pondered this for a moment, humming under your breath before deciding, "Yes."
"Are you always this insufferable?"
"Not always," you said. "Sometimes I'm worse."
"Not hard to believe," Yeonjun said, and you could have sworn he smiled for a split second. There and then gone.
"So, you were apologizing," you said. "For…"
"Nah, forget it," Yeonjun said.
"No, come on," you said. "You know how miserable it's going to make him if we don't get along."
"You're right."
You smiled, and he shook his head.
"No, say it again. I liked it," you said.
Yeonjun sighed, tossing his head back in the same exasperated way that he made you feel. "You really like him?" he asked. "Soobin?"
"What?" you asked, caught off guard by the line of questioning. "Of course I do. I love him."
Something softened in Yeonjun's eyes.
"And he loves you?"
"Well, yeah," you said, because it was obvious. You'd never considered a world where he didn't.
"Okay," Yeonjun said.
"Okay?"
"Yeah, okay," Yeonjun said. "I guess I'll get on board. You know, with the two of you."
"You weren't on board?" you asked. "That was the problem?"
Yeonjun sneered. "I said I'm sorry, okay. Let's just move on."
"So whatever this issue is, it's over?" you asked.
"I still don't really like you," Yeonjun said. "But if Soobin does, I guess I can at least pretend."
"How kind. I didn't take you to be so genuine."
"Oh, shut up," Yeonjun said, rolling his eyes. He got serious for a moment. "If you hurt him—"
You didn't let him finish. "I'm not going to hurt Soobin," you said, matter-of-factly.
"If you do."
"I won't."
In that moment, it seemed like everything might just be okay. But pretending to like someone and actually liking them were two very different things, and as it turned out—you and Yeonjun, well, it was more difficult to pretend than you'd initially thought.
"When will he be here?" you ask Soobin, your arms draped over his shoulders, standing in your empty apartment. The floor is dotted with boxes from the car, and the place is devoid of furniture. It's empty and echoy, but it's yours.
"A few hours, I think," Soobin says. "Same time as the truck."
All your furniture is in a truck heading east across the country. You've been keeping a close eye on the tracking platform to see when it will arrive, planning the trip to coincide with its arrival, so you won't have to go a single night without the important stuff, like your bed.
"Are you sure there wasn't anyone else who could help us?" you ask with a bit of a grimace.
Soobin rolls his eyes playfully. "Be nice."
"I'll try," you say. Even though the idea of seeing Yeonjun again makes your stomach turn in the worst way. It's only been a few months since the last time, but every instance seems to get worse and worse. But you're determined now. You're neighbors. He helped you and Soobin get your apartment, and he's helping you move in. You're going to be seeing a lot of each other.
You have to be nice.
You still think it's a bad idea, but it's too late to change your mind now. You're halfway across the country with Soobin, in a place that's unfamiliar to you but home to him. You have to remind yourself that this is what you want. A future with Soobin. You both wanted to move here. You love this place, despite its one huge, glaring flaw.
And honestly, you don't even hate Yeonjun. Not in the same way he hates you, at least. In a way that, in three years, you still haven't quite figured out. You have some educated guesses, like how it's possible he's jealous that someone's taken his best friend away from him—but even that doesn't seem like it would warrant the kind of attitude he's given you. Because, despite all of it, you don't even hate him. Not really.
You hate him for the way that he hates you, sure. You hate him because he hates you.
But if he was kind to you, liked you, treated you the way he treats Soobin, maybe you would like him too. And you're frustrated, of course, because nothing you do seems to sway him. You've proved yourself a staple in Soobin's life, a girl who's not going anywhere, but still—to him, you're an outsider.
Maybe being here, you tell yourself, and seeing more of each other, will actually make it easier. Maybe this is the start of something better. A friendship. You feel stupid for having hope, but you have it anyway.
"Fine," you say. "I'll do more than try. I'll be a delight."
"Good," Soobin says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Then, "Thank you."
"I love you," you say.
"I love you, too."
You feel, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, like you're where you're meant to be. It's always felt that way with Soobin. Warm and safe. You feel bad, though, because in the pit of your chest, you wish things were different. You wish he had any other friend.
And you feel guilty for hoping their friendship will end. You're selfish. But you can't bring yourself to take back those thoughts, either.
Hours later, Yeonjun's standing in the kitchen of your empty apartment, inspecting the place. He just got off work doing who knows what (you've never asked), and decided to come right over to help. He's eager to see Soobin. That much is clear. And you're there, too. You're always there.
"Hey," you say. It's never not awkward. The first interaction, like testing the waters. Figuring out which Yeonjun you're going to get today. Sometimes you get a kinder Yeonjun, one who—if you squint—might even like you. Sometimes he's obviously bitter about your intrusion. The last time you visited to shop for apartments, he was excited about the idea of you and Soobin moving. But maybe that was just because it involved his best friend coming home.
He's visited Soobin a few times, and you and Soobin have visited him. You've even gone on vacations together—back when he had a girlfriend of his own. Now she was nice. What happened to her? Yeonjun was more bearable when she was around.
"Hey," he says.
Soobin looks back and forth between the two of you, trying to gauge what's going to happen before it does.
"How was the drive?" Yeonjun asks, and he's talking to you—not Soobin.
You're shocked by this. Usually, he ignores you if he can help it. But you nod. If he's going to try, so will you. "It was good," you say. "Yeah, it was good."
"Good," he says, and the room gets quiet.
"Okay, so…" Soobin starts, looking at you for a moment before his eyes flick back over to Yeonjun's. It's never occurred to you to be jealous. Not like Yeonjun is. Soobin is your boyfriend, and he's had plenty of friends no matter where you've lived. Besides, why would Yeonjun pose any threat to your relationship? "I think that's the truck pulling up."
"Yay," you say, trying to cut the tension that developed so quickly, after so little time together.
The three of you head outside together. You sign for the delivery, and the driver drops off the portable storage unit containing your belongings.
You take a few trips, grabbing the small things, while Yeonjun and Soobin do all the hard work. From inside, you watch from the window. Yeonjun has always been a mystery to you. A completely different person as soon as you disappear from the equation. From inside, you see him laugh with his entire chest, doubling over at something Soobin said.
You tell yourself that it's fine, because it is. Why wouldn't it be? But it occurs to you, after watching them for a moment, that you've stranded yourself in a place without any friends of your own. And you feel lonely, watching them. You wonder, for maybe the first time—if this is how Yeonjun feels. They disappear from view, and that feeling goes with it.
They struggle to get the couch through the door frame. "Left, a little left," you say, trying to help. "No, you have to turn it. Turn it a little left."
Yeonjun is closest to you, trying to get the couch through the door and failing miserably.
"You're not doing it right," you say, and Yeonjun shoots you a glare. You smile. "Don't," you say, warning him not to fight with you. It only deepens his glare. He's already struggling to hold onto the couch, and you're clearly not helping, but it is just as much fun to irritate him. Especially when he's the one trying to be good.
"Do you want to do it?" he asks, still trying to angle the couch in just the right way.
"No, that's okay," you say. "Good luck, though."
Yeonjun grumbles, and Soobin speaks up from the other side. "Are you fighting over there?"
You and Yeonjun look at each other for a beat. You both say, "No!" at the same time. Then, under his breath, Yeonjun says, "Can you go away, you're not helping."
"What do you mean?" you ask. "I'm incredibly helpful."
"Yeah, I'm not Soobin. That doesn't work on me."
You roll your eyes, but walk away anyway, moving toward the kitchen to let them struggle in peace. Once they eventually get the couch inside the apartment, you plop down on top of it. Yeonjun's still glaring at you, brows drawn together. "No, get comfortable. You must be tired after all that."
"Thank you," you say. "I am."
Soobin disappears into the kitchen, searching through boxes to find glasses for water. "I'm trying to be nice," Yeonjun says.
"You're not doing a very good job."
One of his fists clenches at his side. "Well, if you would stop being so annoying, it would be a lot easier for me."
"I'm so sorry," you say. "I don't know what you're referring to."
"Uh-huh," Yeonjun says, just as Soobin returns with water for the three of them. "Sure."
It's not your fault it's so fun to push his buttons. He makes it so easy, too. Like a big light-up sign that says push me. What are you supposed to do, just ignore that?
"Everything okay?" Soobin asks, sitting down on the other side of Yeonjun, so far away from you.
"Yes," you say. Yeonjun remains quiet, a sour look on his face. That everlasting glare he always seems to have when you're around. It's fun now, pushing his buttons, but you know that later, once he leaves, you'll overthink every interaction and every moment. Every word exchanged, and wonder why he hates you so much. You'll worry and worry, and the realization won't come all at once, but it'll come eventually. You want him to like you.
Well, of course you do. It would be so much easier all around if he did. But it's more than that. You'll think, oh no. You'll think, I do like Yeonjun. And you'll feel even worse, because he still hates you. He hates you, and you want his friendship so badly. And what are you even supposed to do about that?
"We're practically best friends already," you say, which makes Soobin smile. You don't look at Yeonjun. If you just look at Soobin and his smile, everything will be okay. And you think, this shouldn't affect me so much. But you can't help it. So you just look at Soobin, and you smile, and you try not to think about what could possibly be so wrong with you—so unlikable about you.
"Good," Soobin says, even though he sees through the sarcasm in your tone. It's his way of saying See, it'll happen. His way of being positive, even if you don't feel even the slightest bit optimistic about the whole thing.
They get back out there and bring in the rest of the furniture, one piece at a time. By the time the unit's almost empty, you're scrolling through pizza places on your phone, looking for the best one.
"What do you guys want? My treat," you ask.
"From where?" Yeonjun says.
You show him the menu you're looking at on your phone.
"Nah, that place sucks. Here," he says, taking the phone out of your hand to find a different place before putting it back. "Get this instead."
You look at him, trying to keep your eyebrows from creasing together in the center, trying to keep your mouth from parting open. It's fine. You don't snap at him about it, or call him any names. "Okay," you say instead. "Yeah, thanks."
He looked at you with a small smile, and your free hand tenses. Is he pushing your buttons now? Trying to get you to snap? Well, fine. You won't be first. You get a few large pizzas and some sides, and try to think about how delicious hot pizza sounds right about now. A large, hot pizza and then a good, long sleep. That's pretty much all you need.
"Want me to go get it?" Soobin asks after you place the order. He leans forward to look at you past Yeonjun. Yeonjun leans forward, blocking your view. You grit your teeth. Why is he so annoying?
"No, it's okay," you say. "I can pick it up. I don't mind."
"You sure?" Soobin asks.
"Totally. Give you guys some time to catch up without me," you say, and you don't mean to sound bitter when you say it, but it comes off that way.
Yeonjun looks at you with a gaze you don't understand. It's softer than normal. You look away instead of attempting to figure him out.
You stand up, and Soobin follows suit. Together, you move slightly out of view of the couch, so you can share a quick kiss. Soobin tucks a piece of hair back behind your ear. "You okay?" he asks, his other hand squeezing your bicep.
"Yeah," you say. "Yeah, I'm good."
He kisses you again.
"Gross."
You make a point to kiss Soobin longer, reaching up one of your hands to settle on his shoulder, standing on your toes to deepen it.
"Seriously," Yeonjun says.
Pulling away, you grab the closest available item—a throw pillow sitting on top of a box in the hallway—and chuck it at Yeonjun, who dodges effortlessly.
Soobin puts his card into your hand and shoots you a knowing glance. After five years, you've developed a bit of a secret language yourself, too. You know he's already talked to Yeonjun, already tried to figure out exactly what the problem is, already warned him about being nicer to you. You wonder if he'll try again while you're gone.
With Soobin's card, you grab the keys to your shared car—you sold yours before the move—and take to a town you barely know how to navigate. Your phone helps you get to the pizza place Yeonjun recommended, but not before stopping at a corner store for a case of beer. Maybe that will help to settle tensions.
Every time you and Yeonjun have hung out, there have been more people present. Buffers. More often than not, it was Yeonjun, Soobin, you, and a few of your friends (all of whom, of course, always seemed to have a crush on Yeonjun). Never had the three of you gotten drunk together. It seemed like a rite of passage for any friend group, even friend groups where two of the people were long-term partners, two were childhood best friends, and two kind of hated each other's guts.
It's probably a bad idea. You and Soobin have been driving for days straight, and you're both tired. Soobin's probably just as excited to finally sleep in their new apartment as you are—but you have to do something to stitch the friend group closer together. And that starts tonight.
So yeah, when you get home, it's with pizza, beer, and a positive attitude. Strange, calling a place you've only been for a few hours home, but maybe it'll start to feel like it, soon.
You set the boxes on the coffee table and pass Soobin his card. "Thanks," you say, and he smiles. You don't need to look at Yeonjun to know he's scowling. He's always hated how cute you and Soobin are together. What, are you supposed to apologize for smiling at one another? For being in love?
You stick the case of beer in the fridge and liberate three cans, placing them on the raised counter.
Soobin looks up with one raised brow.
"Trust me," you mouth, which is enough for him. He jumps up from his seat to help you while Yeonjun continues about whatever it is he's doing. Setting up the TV, maybe. At least that's helpful.
You stand on your toes to kiss Soobin on the cheek. "Thanks for getting dinner," you say. Then, "And beer."
"Anytime," he says. "You've got a mastermind plan, I can sense it."
"Maybe," you say, batting your eyelashes at him. His hand is draped around your back, rubbing circles.
Soobin looks down at you, those dimples appearing. "He wants to try, you know," he says. "Being friends."
"I know," you say, because it's good to give people the benefit of the doubt. Even if Yeonjun has proved you wrong countless times in the past. Like, really, how many times have you heard that he wants to try speech? How many times have you given it? You say it again, anyway, making it obvious that you're both trying. "I do, too. Hence, alcohol."
"Could make things a lot worse," Soobin says.
"Could make them a lot better," you say. "Besides, I'm a nice drunk."
Soobin gives you a look, lips pressed together. "Not sure about that."
"What do you mean?" you asked, hands on your hips. "I'm incredibly nice when I'm drunk."
"You yell a lot."
"You yell a lot," you fire back, poking a finger into his chest. "We're loud drunks," you say. "But that doesn't mean I'm not nice."
"Just maybe try extra hard," Soobin says, and you scowl. He pokes a finger into the corner of your lips. "Harder than that."
You glare at him, and he chuckles under his breath. It doesn't matter how long you've been together. Some things never change. Some people leave the honeymoon stage, but not you two. Everything has always felt shiny and new, bright and romantic, with Soobin. You're certain it'll never change, and that's what you love so much about being with him.
"Are you two done bickering?" Yeonjun asks, snatching a beer off the counter.
"We're not bickering," you shoot back, earning you another look from Soobin, reminding you to smile, to be nice.
Yeonjun grumbles. "Sounded like bickering."
You stop yourself from engaging, from saying the words you really want to say, and instead clear your throat. "I was thinking," you start, as he cracks open the can. "What if we played a drinking game?"
"Aren't we too old for that?" Yeunjun asks.
Yeah, that's pretty much the answer you expected. Does he have no sense of whimsy? Or is it just when it comes to you?
"I think it's a great idea," Soobin says.
"Of course you do," Yeunjun says, earning him an elbow to the stomach from Soobin, which makes you laugh.
Soobin gestures for you to continue, now that Yeunjun has been properly silenced. "Right," you say. "Well." You crack open a beer for yourself and take a sip, hoping the liquid will stimulate something in your brain—because honestly, you didn't really get this far in the thought process. "Do you know any good ones?"
"You're not a very good host," Yeunjun comments with a proud smile.
"And you're not very good at pretending to be nice," Soobin says, the gentle tone disappearing from his voice. You swear, if Yeonjun doesn't start playing friendly soon, Soobin might actually engage in the fight brewing.
Even those words must have hurt him to say. Pretending. It made you wonder, does he ever wish for a different girlfriend? One who is more, well, palatable? Someone Yeonjun might actually like? Just like you sometimes wish he had a different best friend, does he think the same of you? Or does he, too, wish that Yeonjun could be different, could get over whatever weird jealous friend act he has going on?
There's no way to tell, but maybe after a few drinks, he'll start saying his feelings out loud. Maybe finally, you can learn something real about him.
"Not truth or dare," Yeonjun says as he crosses back to the couch with a plate in one hand and a beer in the other. "And definitely not spin the bottle."
"I wasn't going to suggest either of those," you say.
"No seven minutes in heaven?" Yeonjun asks with a raised brow.
"Of course not—we need more than seven minutes," you say, glancing back at Soobin with a smirk as he follows you back into the living room. "And you'd get bored out here all by yourself," you say, turning back to Yeonjun with a feigned pout.
Yeonjun makes a face, and Soobin blushes, and you smile proudly before taking another sip of your drink. "What about a card game?" you suggest.
"Boring," Yeonjun says, which almost earns him another elbow from Soobin, but your boyfriend manages to restrain himself.
"Okay, do you have any ideas, then?" you ask.
Soobin serves you each a slice of pizza, then puts some music on in the background to fill the silence. You squeeze his thigh in appreciation.
It's Soobin who offers up the idea. "You two really need to get to know each other. So, truth serum. Answer the question or drink."
"Okay," you say, even though you fear what questions Yeonjun might ask. "Who goes first?"
"Soobin should go first," Yeonjun says. "Since it was his idea."
You resist the urge to roll your eyes. "Right."
"Okay, Yeonjun. Do you hate my girlfriend?" Soobin asks.
The three of you are seated on the couch in a line, with Soobin in the center. Yeonjun leans forward to look at you past Soobin, a lopsided grin on his face. He raises the can of beer to his lips.
"Jackass," you mutter under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear it. He doesn't successfully restrain himself from rolling his eyes.
Did he drink to avoid saying he hates you in front of Soobin, or did he drink to avoid saying he doesn't? Either way, it's a game that you don't want to play.
"Your turn," Soobin tells Yeonjun.
He leans back, tapping his fingers against the can. You sip your beer absentmindedly, attempting to get that warm feeling to begin spreading throughout your body. You're so tightly wound with Yeonjun around. You pray this helps.
He makes eye contact with you. "Do you hate me?"
It's so very tempting to play his game, to bring the beer to your lips—not only so you can keep drinking, but so you can obfuscate the truth. Why should he get to know your feelings when he's not willing to share his own?
It would feel so good to say yes. But this is truth serum, and that isn't the truth. Soobin looks at you, and it's while looking into his eyes that you say, "No, I don't."
This makes Soobin smile, and you don't take your eyes off him long enough to see Yeonjun's reaction. It wasn't for him, anyway.
"Soobin," you start, realizing you don't have a question prepared. You purse your lips, take another sip of beer, and look at him over the can. His eyes don't leave yours. Yeonjun might as well not be there at all. You keep playing the bigger person. You're good at it. "How did you and Yeonjun meet?"
You know the story, or at least bits and pieces of it, but you want to hear it again, and more importantly, you want to appear interested in them.
Soobin places his beer can on the table and leans back, stretching his arms over his head and placing his hands behind his neck. You're too busy staring at him, you hardly even realize that Yeonjun is looking at you. That same studying glance. Why does it always seem like he's trying to figure you out?
"We met in third grade," Soobin says. "Yeonjun was getting bullied on the playground, and I came to his rescue. Friends ever since."
Yeonjun laughs. "That's not what happened."
"It's truth serum. Why would I lie?" Soobin asks.
"To protect your pride, maybe?" Yeonjun says. "You were the one getting bullied. I saved you."
"Come on, man," Soobin says. "It's truth serum."
"That's the truth!"
Soobin catches your eye and shakes his head. "They left him alone after that, I guess because I was so big and scary."
You nod. "Right, yeah. That's totally believable."
"You don't think I'm big and scary?" Soobin asks.
"You're definitely big," you say, not without the ever-important wiggle of your brows, which does make him blush again.
"Anyway," Yeonjun says. "Even if I was getting bullied, it was because I was standing up for his dumb ass."
"And we've been best friends ever since," Soobin says, proud of their silly little origin story.
Yeonjun wastes no time moving on to the next question. "Why did you move here?" he asks you.
There aren't any questions in that big brain of his, ripe and ready to ask Soobin? Why does he have to target you a second time? "What do you mean?"
His eyes widen. "I mean, why did you move here? For what reason?"
"Well, Soobin wanted to—and I wanted to be with him," you say.
"So you were just following Soobin, you don't actually want to be here?" Yeonjun asks.
"No," you say, defensively. "No, I want to be here."
"You don't resent it?" Yeonjun asks.
"What kind of question is that?" you reply.
"I'm just trying to get to know you."
"Then ask me my favorite color or something, fuck." You let out a sigh. "No, I wanted to move here. With Soobin, but not just because he wanted to." You turn the question back on him. "Don't you have any other friends you could bother?"
Soobin looks at you with furrowed brows. He must regret his decision to play this game. More realistically, he's looking for ways to de-escalate the situation before it turns into all-out warfare.
Yeonjun doesn't drink, just says, "Not really, no."
"Maybe a different game," Soobin says, standing up, trying to diffuse the tension building on both sides of his body. "I think I saw Mario Kart in one of these boxes." He starts looking without waiting for affirmation from either party.
You finish off your beer and skip over to the kitchen, trying to pretend like you aren't bothered by any of the night's events so far. "Yeonjun," you say. "Come over here." Yeonjun grumbles, but stands up. Then, "Soobin, you too," even though he's already a step behind Yeonjun.
"What?" Yeonjun asks.
You take three more beers out of the fridge and dig your keys out of your sweatshirt pocket. "You ever shotgun a beer before, Yeonjun?"
"Who do you think I am?" he asks, taking one of the beers and fishing out a key of his own. You shouldn't have expected any less.
You reach for Soobin and grab his hand, pulling him over toward the sink.
"Is this a good idea?" Soobin asks.
"Probably not," you say. "But it's fun."
"This might be the first time we agree on something," Yeojun says, which is enough to get Soobin on board, too.
You tilt one of the cans horizontally and feel around for the pocket of air before cracking into the side with the new house key. You hand it carefully to Soobin, who readies himself to take it.
"Ready?" you say, glancing between Soobin and Yeonjun. You count down from 3, then stab the key into yours just as Yeonjun does the same. You're barely able to watch anyone else as you raise it to your lips, tilt it back, then crack the top. You hear the others do the same.
It's gross, cheap, gas station beer, but it does the trick. It's lukewarm, too—not yet cold from the fridge—making it perfect for shotgunning. You get yours down easily, and so do Soobin and Yeonjun.
"That's better, right?" you say, looking at both of them with a smile before you return to your spot on the couch to scarf down a pizza. "Now Mario Kart." Because Soobin was right, that was certainly enough truth serum—even though you hadn't even finished the second round. Maybe getting to know each other would have to take another avenue. One not so, well, straightforward.
"Loser shotguns another beer?" Yeonjun suggests as Soobin sets up the game and hands out the controllers.
"Yeah, game on," you say.
Soobin takes a seat next to you and shakes his head. "She plays dirty. Be careful."
You lean back to look at Soobin with a smile. You reach up to cup his cheek with one hand. "Don't worry, I'll take it easy on you."
"You better not," he says.
You smile. "You know I won't."
Yeonjun picks out his car with a look of extreme concentration, and you settle for the same set-up as always. It's never steered you wrong.
The race starts, and you're off. Soobin quickly falls behind—his tactic for winning that doesn't usually pan out the way he wants it to. Yeonjun stays on your tail, keeping close by. You slow down a fraction to let him take first, only for him to be blue-shelled seconds later.
"Come on!" he yells, and you snicker under your breath.
He comes in a very close second, with Soobin just a few places behind. You send Soobin to the sink to shotgun his beer. "Just you two this time," he says before tossing his head back. You almost get distracted looking at him.
"Huh?" you say. "Yeah, let's go."
"You're going down," Yeonjun says.
"Awfully confident for second place," you say.
"Maybe it was a hustle," he says.
"It wasn't."
He presses his lips into a line and starts the race, eyes shifting over to look at you as you keep yours trained on the screen. Years of training have paid off. Kicking Soobin's ass is easy work, and you're used to that, but Yeonjun is a challenge.
No matter what you try, he's always right there. You slip into first place, and he's got a blue shell ready to go. You toss a banana out in front of you and slip just in time to avoid the crush of the shell.
"What the fuck was that?" he asks, annoyed.
"It's called strategy," you say.
"Fuck your strategy," he grumbles under his breath, leaning forward even further, just to lose a few seconds later.
"Join your friend at the sink, would you?" you say with a smile.
His lids flick closed for a second, like he's taking a moment to introspect. "I swear you're cheating."
"Nope, I'm just better than you," you say. You set your controller on the table and pick up a slice of pizza.
You play a few more rounds before deciding to give Soobin a break from constant punishment. Yeonjun's in deep, too. You, despite not having shotgunned another—because of course, you never lose—have still consumed a good amount. Constant sipping throughout rounds will do that.
"Come on, come on, come on," you say, tugging on Soobin's shirt and rocking back and forth on your heels. "Get up, come on." But he's out like a light, eyes fluttered shut. "Yeonjun," you say with a sing-songy voice. "Come help me."
"Huh?" he asks from the kitchen, turning around with a new can in his hand.
"Please?" you ask, batting your lashes in his direction. "I need help."
"I didn't know you were capable of asking nicely."
"Don't be rude."
"I'm not," he says.
"You are! You're plenty rude all the time," you say. "You might think that you're not, but you are. And I know you didn't answer my question earlier to get on my nerves."
"What question?" he asks.
"Right," you say. "Come on, please, just help me get Soobin to bed. He's so heavy."
He obliges, tugging Soobin up by one arm and draping it over his shoulders. You help as best you can, but mostly just end up getting in the way as Yeonjun half-carries your boyfriend to bed. He drops him atop the covers, and you help him under them, pressing a kiss to his forehead before disappearing back into the living room after Yeonjun, who's already putting his shoes on.
"You're leaving?" you ask, skipping to close the distance between the two of you.
He pauses, twisting to face you. He looks at you with that same inspecting glance, trying to figure something out that you'll probably never understand.
"Yeah," he says. "Why wouldn't I?"
"I thought we were having fun," you say.
"You just told me I'm plenty rude all the time, and now you want me around?" Yeonjun asks, keeping his lips pressed into a tight line.
"Don't be like that," you say.
"Like what?"
"I just—we had a good night, I thought we were having a good night. Don't go back to hating me all over again."
"I don't hate you," he says.
This catches you off guard. Not just the words he's said, but the fact that he said them at all. It's much more his style to let you stew and stress over figuring him out. You're not used to straightforward information from him.
"You don't," you say, more of a statement than a question.
He takes a step closer to you. It's too much, but you're drunk, and if you take a step away from him, you might fall down entirely. You let him get into your personal space.
"I think you're plenty annoying," he says.
"So you've mentioned."
"And I don't think you're right for Soobin. But I don't hate you."
This snaps you out of things, sobers you. "What?"
Your reaction only makes him smile, which only serves to piss you off even more. He doesn't know anything about your relationship, but of course—there he goes, making inferences based on nothing.
He doesn't react, only stays a few inches away from you, looking down. He's smiling, proud of the words he's decided to say. He must really believe them.
"I know you don't know me that well, but you're wrong," you say. "You're really wrong—"
"How well do you know Soobin, anyway?" he asks, diverting the conversation.
"What?" you ask. "What do you mean?"
"I mean what I said. How well do you know him?"
You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling vulnerable, like he's seen through you and found your biggest insecurities. Of course, you know Soobin. You've been dating for five years. You've known each other for six. You know each other.
"I know him really well. I know everything about him," you say, and you roll back your shoulders in an attempt to feel more confident.
He watches you do it and chuckles, undercutting said confidence.
Yeonjun reaches out and touches a lock of your hair, twisting it between his fingertips. You stare down at his hand, but don't swat it out of the way. You only watch, transfixed.
"What are you doing?" you ask.
"You know Soobin so well, yeah?" he asks.
"Yeah."
"You know we hooked up once or twice," Yeonjun says. He doesn't wait for your reaction, and you try not to let one slip. "Yeah, his freshman year of college. He came home for Christmas, and we got drunk, one thing led to another… you know how it goes."
He studies you for a reaction.
"I know," you say, through grit teeth.
"Oof," he says. "You're an awful liar."
He's still twisting that piece of your hair between his fingers, still looking at you like you're something he could chew up and spit out, something he could get rid of so easily. He leans forward, too close, invading your personal space.
His lips graze your ear, and you nearly jump out of your skin, but his hands are there on your upper arms to anchor you to the ground in front of him. "Do you think he thinks about me when he's inside you?" The words are ice cold, and they send a shiver up your spine.
You don't know what you're doing until there's no time to stop it. Your hand raises, connecting fast with the side of Yeonjun's face.
The apartment goes silent, but your face is red with anger, and your hands clench at your sides—even tighter the moment a smile crawls across his lips.
"Did that make you feel better?" he asks.
"Yes," you say, through teeth still gnashed tight together, even though it really didn't make you feel any better at all.
"Good." He has the nerve to run both hands down your arms, smoothing out your sleeves. "Goodnight," he says, that damn cruel smile still present on his lips. Then, he's gone.
You manage to spend enough time convincing yourself that it isn't true—that Soobin would have told you—that Yeonjun was just fucking with you. It takes you minutes before you move from that spot, but when you finally do, it's in the direction of your bedroom. You open the door, and you stare at Soobin's sleeping form for a moment before discarding your clothes and sliding into bed next to him. He doesn't stir, but you cuddle up close to him anyway—unable to stop yourself from wondering if Yeonjun has been in your place.
The anger comes in the morning, in remembering the conversation in the light of day, and in hating yourself for not saying anything. You're too angry to connect the dots, to think about the various puzzle pieces in any way, shape, or form. Instead, you focus on the fact that he could be screwing with you. You decide that's the truth, because it hurts less than Soobin keeping this secret.
"Where are you going?" Soobin asks as you sling your purse over your shoulder. He's wearing loose gray sweatpants and an unzipped hoodie. His eyes are half-lidded, and he's got one hand pressed to his temple.
"Going to get us some much-needed coffee," you say, which isn't a complete lie. You'll be going there after.
You want to cross the room to kiss him, but keep the distance, looking at him, half-dressed, and you bundled up in a winter coat. He's not the kind of person who would lie to you. But you never asked, either. But wouldn't he volunteer that information willingly? A shiver runs down your spine again, and you have to stop yourself from smiling at the memory of slapping Yeonjun across the face.
"Everything okay?" he asks. He's so good at reading you, and always has been. It's impossible to keep a secret, so you half turn away so he can't see your face.
Just talk to him, your brain nags at you, but you don't listen. "Yes." You go see Yeonjun instead.
It's not fair. Putting up with all this bullshit. Moving is already stressful enough as is. There are so many boxes to unpack at home, and so many other things that need to be done. But instead, you're standing outside in the cold, waiting for your nemesis to open the door so you can yell at him some more.
You think about not yelling at him for only a second or two before you remember how upset you are. Sure, maybe an honest communication would suit the two of you better, but you're not going to be the one to initiate it. He doesn't deserve your kindness right now.
The door doesn't open, but you hear movement inside, so you pound on it a few more times. "Open the door," you yell, which isn't exactly something a lot of people want to hear when they're deciding whether or not to let someone into their home, but surprisingly, it works.
The door swings inward, and Yeonjun stands—dressed similarly to Soobin—with one hand on the edge of the door, looking down at you with a bit of a smirk. He has on dark sweatpants and a half-zipped hoodie, no shirt underneath. What's wrong with him? It was sexy on Soobin, obviously, but you're just annoyed at his attractiveness.
You're not blind, even if you wish you were in his presence, so you know he's hot. Probably just about as much as he knows it.
"You know some people have hangovers," he says. "Loud noises, bad."
His smarmy attitude is never welcome, but even less so now. You step through the threshold and shoulder past him into his apartment without an invitation.
"Yeah, come right in," he says, turning around to shut the door.
It occurs to you then, standing in his apartment with your arms crossed, trying not to let yourself burst into flames as a result of the anger that you feel, that you don't really have much of a plan. The only thing you actually thought about in advance was, well, getting answers. There wasn't much time to think about the how of it all.
And now that you stood in front of him, you found yourself more flustered than anything. You could count the number of times you've been alone together on one hand.
It's a stand-off. He's looking at you, clearly amused at your state of being, and you're looking at him, trying to figure out a way to get another deserved slap in.
The words do come to you, eventually. "What you said last night," you start, gauging his reaction. "Was that true, or were you just trying to get under my skin?"
He runs one hand through dark brown, nearly black hair. The strands fall back into place, framing his eyes. And he has the audacity—which shouldn't surprise you, but it inevitably does—to say, "What did I say last night?"
"I'm serious."
"So am I," Yeonjun fires back in quick succession.
You're certainly not going to say it out loud. Is that his play, here? That he wants you to be the one to say it? Why does he always have some angle, some game? Can't he just talk to you like a normal human being?
"You didn't drink that much," you say. "I know you remember."
"Maybe I'm a light-weight."
"Yeonjun," you say, exasperation dripping from your tongue.
He likes the way you say it. "Yes?" he purrs.
"You're being difficult on purpose."
"Not on purpose," he says. "What are you going to do about it? Hit me again?" The corner of his lips turns up, and the smile stretches across in slow motion.
You reach out a hand to shove him. "So, you do remember?"
He chuckles. "It's so easy to rile you up."
"I swear to god, Yeonjun."
"I was just messing with you," he says, taking a more serious tone for a split second.
"And I'm supposed to believe you?" you ask.
He shrugs. "I don't care what you believe." He gestures to the door. "You could ask your boyfriend, though. If you don't trust me."
You grumble. This is pretty much exactly what you expected would happen—so why then did you have hope that Yeonjun would, out of nowhere, become this stand-up guy who would speak with you honestly? You should have known he would just use this as an opportunity to get under your skin even further.
"Why would you even say that?" you ask. "If it wasn't true?"
He thinks about this for a moment before saying anything. "Because it's fun to watch you squirm."
You narrow your eyes at him. "You have serious issues."
"I know." He gestures toward the door again, this time reaching for the knob to pull it open. "Have a nice day," he says—which really means get out.