Under an umbrella, I check my phone as I approach my faculty building. I now have to scroll past friends, family members, and advertisements before Eriko’s chat appears on the screen. I open it once more. “Read” still appears next to my last message, no others following it. I tuck my phone into my jacket and relax my eyes, my sleepiness still lingering.

Soon I recognize an army print backpack in front of me. Koki is walking together with a girl who has long, slender legs. She tilts her umbrella enough for me to make out the face of the person who was on my mind all weekend.

I continue walking at my current pace. It would be far too awkward for me to try and catch up with them. I wonder if Eriko told Koki about her date with me. Maybe he admitted that he lied about the macaron thing. Should I ask him if he heard anything from her about it? Or should I avoid bringing her up at all as I had originally planned?

Then I see it.

Koki reaches out for Eriko’s hand. She accepts the gesture, lacing her fingers with his.

My feet refuse to move any further.

I watch as the two of them approach the same building I’m headed to. They stop at the entrance, turning to each other. Koki runs his fingers through her hair, his lips moving while she grins up at him. They wave to each other. Eriko walks off while Koki shakes water off his umbrella.

I remain where I am. I can’t tell if it’s the cold or the shock that’s making me shiver.

After convincing myself to move forward, I get stuck again outside the classroom door. If today is like every other day, Koki will be waiting with a seat saved for me. I try to organize my jumbled emotions. Am I capable of sitting next to him right now? More importantly, should I even trust him anymore? Why would he have made an effort to help me get close to Eriko if he himself was already in that kind of relationship with her? Could he have been fucking with me this whole time?

Running short of time, I enter the classroom. Koki waves at me almost immediately. He has his backpack on top of the chair next to him. I’m unable to meet his gaze as I walk straight past him and take a seat several rows behind. I almost feel bad when I notice him twisting around in his seat to look at me. I don’t want to meet his eyes, so I keep my head down while I pull a pen and notebook out of my bag. I skim through my notes until the professor walks in. Looking back up, I see that Koki is now facing forward, someone else seated next to him.

At lunch break, I avoid the cafeteria and buy food at a convenience store instead. I stand outside the store, food in hand as I open my class schedule on my phone to remind myself where to go next. Maybe I can eat in the classroom.

“Makoto.”

Looking up from my phone, I see Koki standing in front of me, his eyes wide and lips parted slightly. Unsure of what to do, I slip my phone into my pocket and return his stare.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asks.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I blurt out, my voice shaking.

He continues to stare at me with the same confused face.

“Tell you what?” he finally says.

“About Eriko.”

He looks away, an obvious look of guilt crossing his face.

“Is this some kind of sick game? Are you having fun?” My voice becomes harsher with each word.

“Makoto.” His adam’s apple bobs as he gulps. “I’m sorry. I was planning to tell you today.”

I’m shivering again.

“Can we talk? Inside somewhere,” he says with sincere eyes.

I end up following him. We find an empty classroom and sit next to each other at a desk.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes again.

I stare at my hands on the table.

“I wasn’t playing any games. I just… realized I still like Eriko.”

I look at him and he stares down at the desk.

“I liked her all throughout junior high school but was never able to tell her. I thought I was already over her but then I realized I wasn’t. And I didn’t say anything to you because at that point I had already agreed to help you,” he speaks slowly, as if cautious of his words. I notice a drop of sweat escaping his temple.

“But then on Saturday,” he continues. “She invited me out and confessed to me, and I couldn’t say no.”

I try to recall the past week and all the times I’d noticed Koki go quiet whenever Eriko came up in conversation. I could have caught on earlier if I had tried.

“I see,” I say.

“I’m so sorry.” He looks up at me with an apologetic face.

I take a deep breath before trying to smile. “It’s okay.”

He continues to give me the same sorry expression, so I slap him on the back and widen my smile.

“You liked her since junior high, right? Congrats.”

The sides of his mouth twitch into a smile, though his eyes still look ashamed.

“Honestly, I was more afraid that you’d been tricking me,” I laugh.

“You think I’d try to trick you?” His smile gradually transitions into a genuine one.

After talking a bit more, we go to find Takeru and Reiya. I admit I’m still shaken about Koki and Eriko, but when I try to put myself in Koki’s shoes, I realize I would probably do the same. Understanding the situation helps ease the pain of dealing with Eriko’s rejection a bit, too. I make Koki explain what happened to Takeru and Reiya. They tell him he’s a jerk, but we’re all laughing together by the end of the day.

“Welcome back,” I hear as I enter the house.

Shun and Kenji are sitting at the kitchen table together.

“Thanks,” I mumble as I take off my shoes. I pick them up and carry them with me through the kitchen.

“Where are you taking your shoes?” Kenji asks.

I stop.

“Oh, uh,” I turn back around to put them away in the shoebox. “I forgot there’s a shoebox here. Oops.”

“My dad brought over some mandarins for us to share,” Kenji says, pointing to a cluster of oranges on the table. “Come take a few.”

“Oh, thanks.” I wander over.

At the same time I bend over to take a mandarin, Shun lifts himself out of his chair, his arm skimming my waist. I’m pretty sure it’s an accident, but I still flinch at the touch and back away from him. He turns to scoff at me.

“What are you so afraid of?” He’s smirking.

“You startled me. That’s all,” I say, reaching over again and grabbing a mandarin.

“Looks more like homophobia to me,” he observes as he begins to close in on me.

I step away, but he shoots a finger out to poke my abdomen.

“Hey!” I exclaim, wincing and holding out my arm to shield my stomach.

“You can’t bear to be touched by me, can you?” He slips his other hand under my arm to poke me again.

“Stop,” I order.

Ignoring my plea, he pokes either side of my waist with both hands.

“I SAID STOP!” I yell, dropping the mandarin and grabbing his wrists, holding them up in the air.

His smirk fades and he looks back at me with wide, nervous eyes.

“YOU FAG!” I shout in panic.

One of his wrists escapes from my grip and before I know it, my face is projected to the side, the sound of a slap echoing through the room. My hand loosens on his other wrist and he yanks it away before stomping out of the kitchen.

I’m immobile with shock, still trying to process what just happened. I register the lingering stinging in my face. Did I go too far?

“Makoto.”

I turn around to find Kenji looking up at me with intimidating eyes.

“Sit down,” he demands as he points to the chair opposite his.

Suddenly feeling ashamed, I’m quick to obey. Kenji’s stern eyes make me feel like an elementary school student getting scolded by a teacher.

“Don’t get too heated over him,” he warns. “Just leave him be.”

Irked by his impossible request, I argue, “He’s been purposely trying to infuriate me since the moment I moved in! How can I just let him do that?”

Kenji stares at me with indifferent eyes before leaning in.

“Let me tell you a little bit about Shun,” he says in a low voice.

I lean in too, curiosity gradually replacing my rage.

“He wasn’t always like this. When he first moved in, he didn’t talk, didn’t eat, hardly ever came out of his room. His eyes were always red and swollen. Every time me or the other guys tried to start a conversation with him, he would just space out like he couldn’t hear us. He was just this empty shell.”

“Why?” I ask.

“I don’t know.” Kenji shakes his head. “He never told any of us. But something must have happened to him. It took him a while, but he gradually started to come out of his room more often and would answer us when we talked to him. He was never the easiest person to get along with, but…” He sighs. “I think he’s trying his best. Even if it was just out of spite, him smiling and poking someone would have been unimaginable back when he first moved in.”

I bite my lip, unsure of what to think.

“I know he can be hard to accept at first, but once you do, you’ll realize he’s just another guy,” Kenji says in a lighter tone, leaning back in his chair.

I take a deep breath to absorb the new information. I think back on my past interactions with Shun and wonder if I should feel guilty for the things I’ve said to him. Is it even possible for me to turn things around and make Shun “just another guy” to me too? That would definitely require effort on his part as well.

“Anyway, I’ll leave you be,” Kenji says as he stands up and tucks his chair under the table. “I need to get back to studying.”

“Studying?” Isn’t he a little too old to be a university student?

“Yeah. I’m in my last year of med school.”

“Really?” I sit up. “Are you going to be a doctor?”

“Hopefully,” he says as he walks toward the door. He turns back to me, pointing at the floor. “Don’t forget to pick up that mandarin.”

“Oh, sorry!” I smile embarrassedly and jump out of my chair to recover it.

I get home from class on Wednesday to find Shun on his phone in the kitchen, eating something that smells like kimchi. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since our previous encounter, but he shows no reaction to me entering.

“I’m back,” I say, hoping he’ll acknowledge me.

I see him flinch, but he doesn’t reply or look up. I take off my shoes and tread across the kitchen in his direction. I’m not sure why, but I’m feeling a little nervous as I stand across the table from him.

“Hey, Shun.”

He slowly moves his eyes away from his phone screen and up at me.

“Um,” I stammer.

He quickly looks back down at his phone.

“About the other day… No—About all the days.” I wait to see if he’ll look up at me again. He doesn’t. “I want to say I’m sorry.”

I wait some more. No reaction.

“Well, that’s all I wanted to say.” I begin to slide my feet toward the hallway, keeping my body turned toward him to make sure I catch any form of response.

“I’m going to leave now,” I announce. I’m in the hallway. “Just let me know if you want to hear it again.”

Shun doesn’t budge.

Giving up, I turn to continue down the hall. Should I consider my apology accepted? It’s hard to say.

I sigh as I enter my room and plop down onto my bed face first. I feel around until my hand meets my computer. I roll over and lift it onto my lap. It’s been a while since I last checked up on KanZi. The homepage displays this week’s trending blogs. Remembering Shun’s photo there before, I scroll through the list but find he’s no longer there. I click on the search bar with the intention of typing “kanzi,” but find myself entering “shun” instead.

The search engine claims to have found 153 results. I shake my head at my own ridiculousness and click on the search bar again to search for KanZi’s blog for real this time. I type “shun fashion” and click enter.

Shun’s profile photo is at the top of the page. Before I know it, I’m scrolling through his posts again. My eyes search for words like “moved in” or “roommates” and photos of Shun himself. The posts are dated, but I realize I don’t even know when Shun moved in.

Soon I find myself face to face with those dreaded photos again. This time, I observe without trying to scroll past them. Shun’s skin looks soft and spotless. He’s slender, but not so much that he looks unhealthy. His neck appears longer without that silly choker. I squint my eyes at the tattoo’s intricate design. I have to remind myself that the thighs I’m looking at do not belong to a woman.

I compel myself away from the photos by closing the window and shutting my laptop. I feel ashamed, as if I’ve done something morally unacceptable. I try to push the blog and everything else Shun-related out of my mind and look for something else to do.