Lucien Klein
I lay sprawled on my bed, blanket half tangled around my legs, phone hovering an inch from my nose. A random netflix movie was playing in the background while the group chat was already buzzing, which meant one of two things: either someone was oversharing again, or a new meme war was brewing and I had approximately three seconds before I got tagged into chaos.
After finishing my bitter coffee at the café this morning, I'd decided I'd had enough of the day before it even properly started. I left not long after the couple at the next table did, which was unusual for me. Normally, I lingered. I was a creature of routine, second cups, slow sips, pretending the world outside the café didn't exist. But today, my chest felt too tight, my thoughts too loud. The moment their laughter faded and the bell over the door jingled, I shoved my hands in my pockets and walked out like the scene hadn't just rearranged something inside me.
Home was quiet when I got back. Sunlight angled through my windows, soft and lazy, striping the floor with warm light. The stillness should have been comforting, but it only made the hollow parts of me more obvious. With no work pending, no deadlines breathing down my neck, and absolutely no boyfriend (obviously) to fuss over, I realized the entire day was mine to waste. Or at least, that was the plan, until my phone started vibrating non-stop like it was possessed.
Notifications exploded across my screen. The group chat banner kept popping up: Nathan sent a message.Jiro sent a message. Over and over. Of course. Somewhere in the city, my friends had already decided my peace and quiet was illegal.
"I propose we solve today's problems with some booze!!!!!!!!" Nathan's message screamed at me, drowning my lock screen in exclamation marks. The drama was so on-brand I actually snorted. Nathan made the same proposal every Saturday like it was dedicated in his personal law to slowly destroy our livers.
Jiro replied almost immediately: "Are there any other new proposals for this week?"
I grinned, thumbs already moving before I could stop them. Nathan and Jiro could light up a group chat with nonsense and arguments faster than I could make a cup of instant ramen. For a second, I forgot about the café, the couple, the cold coffee. "We have a problem? I don't know about you two, but my morning is great," I typed, adding a sparkly emoji I knew would annoy Jiro.
"Great he says," Jiro replied. "If you find my interest, let me know. It's missing."
I rolled my eyes and stretched my legs out, the blanket sliding further to the floor. Time to escalate. I cracked my knuckles dramatically, even though no one could see. "I'm leaking your nude photos!" I threatened, tossing in a cheeky emoji for maximum effect.
The responses were instant.
"Where'd you even get that?! Creepy dude!" Jiro fired back, accompanied by the middle finger emoji, times two. "You have nude photos? Gross." Nathan added, the moral high ground he absolutely did not own.
I grinned at my screen, completely unfazed. This was familiar, safe. A battlefield where no one walked away truly hurt. "My crush is just really handsome today," I typed next, half-brag, half-confession. The second I hit send, I replayed the morning in my head again: the jingle of the café door, the way he stepped in like he belonged in every golden patch of light, the way my heart had betrayed me all over again.
"What are you? High school?" Jiro replied, disgust practically dripping through the pixels.
Nathan, of course, went straight for the throat: "The one who has a boyfriend?"
I stared at the message a little too long, my chest tugging in that familiar, painful way. Before I could reply, Jiro chimed in, "Don't make him cry this early."
"Better luck next time, dude," Nathan added, with a fake sympathetic emoji that made me want to throw my phone and laugh at the same time.
I didn't mind their teasing. If anything, it grounded me. There was something almost comforting about being roasted by people who'd seen me at my absolute weirdest and still stayed. "Tough luck, guys!" I wrote. "Maybe next week I'll get noticed by the universe."
Jiro, apparently in a philosophical mood, said, "You know what, Luke?" My eyebrows went up. "Not yet," I shot back. A part of me braced for impact. Jiro's advice, no matter how stupidly packaged, always had a way of landing where it hurt. "Doesn't matter, I'll tell you. Don't get mad, though. You'll get wrinkles," he continued.
I snorted, loud enough that it echoed in my empty room. "Spill. I'm so happy today, I could choke all of you," I replied, amused at my own dramatic flair. I could practically hear Nathan groan. "Care to explain 'choke' first before you threaten us?" Nathan replied. I burst into laughter, the kind that curls your stomach and makes your eyes sting a little. The room didn't feel quite as hollow anymore.
Then Jiro switched gears, his messages slowing down, his tone sharpening even through text. "When will you actually find a boyfriend for yourself so you won't sneak around someone else's boyfriend?"
The words hovered on my screen like a spotlight. I stared at them, the air around me going oddly still. It wasn't like he was wrong. He just had a terrible habit of being loudly right. So I did what I always did when things hit too close: I joked. "Is there another Kaius Oziel in this universe?" I typed back, adding a star emoji like I was talking about some celebrity instead of the man who'd accidentally taken up residency in my ribcage.
"He's a hopeless case, Jiro," Nathan replied before Jiro could.
"Not married yet, right?" I fired back. "It's not hopeless unless there's a ring. Still have plenty of time to break up."
I could almost hear Jiro's exasperated groan through the screen. "You just want chaos, don't you?" Nathan didn't hesitate: "Bro wanted to be buried six feet under."
I smirked, rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling. "Kazel is the one I want. No one can change that," I typed, the words heavier than I meant them to be. I let my thumb hover over the send button for half a heartbeat before releasing it. Too late to take it back.
"I doubt it, but the plot thickens," Nathan replied. "Still," I added, settling deeper into my pillow, "if he asks me to run away with him, I won't say no." Jiro immediately reacted: "I'll disown you, you beast!"
"You keep saying that," I shot back, grinning, "but I'm still here. So who am I really, your enemy or your friend?"
Jiro didn't miss a beat. "Look at this idiot!" he declared, like he was presenting me as Exhibit A to an invisible jury. "Classic. Gag-worthy," Nathan added, ever the supportive audience. "Obsessive much?" Jiro piled on.
I let out a dramatic sigh, even though no one could hear it, and rolled onto my side, facing the faint stripes of sunlight on my wall. "That's actually what you call love, Jiro," I wrote. "You literally have zero sweetness in your body. That's why Alice rejected you."
The silence after that was brief, but palpable. Then: "Oops, hehe," Nathan dropped in, clearly enjoying the show.
Four middle finger emojis arrived from Jiro, each one appearing with the kind of energy that said, he's yelling irl. I burst into laughter again, the sound bouncing around my room, bright and real. For a while, the ache from this morning loosened its grip, replaced by the familiar, chaotic comfort of this little trio.
My phone finally went still, the storm in the chat settling into quiet typing dots and random stickers. I stared at the screen, at our string of insults and confessions and stupid threats, and felt something slow and warm settle in my chest.
If anyone ever asked me what friendship meant, I wouldn't bother with some poetic explanation. I'd probably just hand them a screenshot of this group chat, every roast, every "are you dumb?", every "I'll disown you," every middle finger emoji that secretly meant "I care about you, idiot."
Love, rivalry, and pure nonsense, all condensed into tiny bubbles of text. On screen and off, Nathan and Jiro made my life a little fuller, a lot stranger, and definitely more fun. And on days like this, when the universe made it painfully clear that some people would never be mine, they reminded me I was never really alone.