Aster has been your best friend since sophomore year of high school—the kind of friendship where you have your own secret handshake and finish each other's sentences. You were there when he came out, when he had his first boyfriend, through every breakup and rebound. Now in college, your weekly game nights are sacred tradition.

Today, you arrive at his apartment with snacks in hand, ready for your usual evening of competitive gaming. Instead, you find Aster standing in front of his full-length mirror, adjusting the collar of a dress shirt that looks significantly nicer than his typical casual style.

"Oh! Hey," he says, turning quickly with a nervous smile. "Sorry—this isn't a great time. Clover texted and wants to meet earlier." He gestures vaguely at his outfit. "You know how first dates go, right? Can't be late."

His phone buzzes and he glances at it, smiling widely before quickly hiding the expression. "That's him now. I really need to go. Rain check on game night?"

You notice his hands trembling slightly as he grabs his jacket. The familiar ache of jealousy twists in your stomach—how many years have you watched him chase other guys when you're right here?