The phone vibrated in his hand, familiar as ever.
Kyle rolled from his back onto his side and closed the manhwa app, switching to his messenger. There was a message from Darren — not the first one today, but a continuation of their conversation.
Darren:
Saturday work for you?
Kyle read the question and paused. He glanced toward the window, his brain still not fully switching from colorful panels to actual real-life concerns.
Saturday was the day after tomorrow. He'd have enough time to prepare. Finish the homework.Work through his questions.
His gaze returned to the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard.
Kyle:
ok
Darren:
what time?
Kyle:
after lunch
Darren:
Alright. See you on Saturday
Kyle only read it. The reply stayed inside his head.
The messenger minimized back into the background, colorful images flooding the screen again.
For a moment, Kyle's gaze drifted toward his desk. Then to the chair. The armchair. The new mouse he'd already tested. A painfully familiar path for his eyes to follow — bleeding into an unbearably familiar path of thoughts.
The day after tomorrow, Darren would come here. Sit right there at the desk and explain numbers to him in that low voice of his.
Ideally, he wouldn't care.
A heavy "ugh" cut through the air of the room.
Kyle squeezed his eyes shut, rubbed them hard, and looked back at the screen. He was scrolling faster than he could process the words inside the speech bubbles.
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The echoes of the doorbell were already fading somewhere deep inside the house. Kyle took the last few steps down the stairs and headed for the door.
His hand reached for the handle — then stopped. He glanced down at his slightly wrinkled T-shirt and straightened it with a casual motion. Smoothed his hair back.
He shook his head briefly and exhaled quietly
The hinges of the heavy door creaked softly.
Darren smiled faintly, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly.
"Hey."
Kyle's gaze immediately caught on the large black backpack slung over his shoulder. He squinted with interest.
Darren followed his gaze and explained before Kyle could even ask.
"Oh — I brought some materials from school and university. Thought you might find them useful."
Indifference slipped back over Kyle's expression. He nodded slowly.
"I see," he said. After a beat, he added, "Thanks."
Darren gave a short nod.
They had already reached the stairs when Kyle suddenly stopped. Darren, walking right behind him, nearly crashed into him.
Kyle turned around — and found himself only inches from Darren's face. He had already stepped up onto the stair above, so now their heights almost matched.
Blue eyes were right in front of him. Level with his.
And for a moment, Kyle forgot why he had stopped in the first place.
Darren stayed where he was, looking straight at him up close. Studying his face. Reading his expression.
"What is it?" he asked, a shadow of a smile softening his gaze.
Breathing suddenly felt unexpectedly difficult.
"A chair," he said quietly. "Need to grab one from the kitchen. The armchair's too low — it'll be uncomfortable at the desk."
"Oh, you're thoughtful."
The smile shifted from Darren's eyes to his lips.
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They entered Kyle's room almost like a procession: Kyle, Darren, and the kitchen chair he was carrying.
The out-of-place kitchen chair took its spot to the right of Kyle's armchair. The now-empty backpack lay open on the floor nearby. And the desk, already crowded with notebooks and textbooks, now looked like an archive shelf in a library.
Kyle stared at the stack in surprise.
"Why so many?" he asked.
Darren straightened and glanced over at the materials.
"My textbooks from school and university. And some notes that might help you."
Kyle crossed his arms and exhaled through his nose, eyes briefly closing.
"You didn't have to go to all that trouble…" he muttered.
"Yeah. I didn't."
He said nothing else. Only his expression softened slightly.
Kyle tensed and bit the inside of his cheek. A moment later, the wheels of his chair quietly scraped against the floor.
He actually had prepared for the lesson — finished all the homework, read the topics Darren recommended, put together his questions. As if he wanted the session to be not so much productive as short as possible.
Though that intention grew weaker with every word Darren spoke.
"…your solution is mostly correct, but there's an easier way to do it," Darren said, filling the page with neat letters and numbers.
Another line — and his hand brushed against Kyle again.
Kyle stiffened and pressed his lips together. He stared at the numbers in the notebook, though he'd almost stopped listening entirely. The words scattered somewhere at the edge of understanding.
"…you clearly understood this part. You did well here. No point in repeating it…"
Alongside the symbols, Kyle's gaze kept catching on long fingers, neat nails, the veins shifting subtly beneath the back of Darren's hand with every movement — disappearing further up toward his wrist, his forearm hidden beneath rolled-up sleeves.
Kyle swallowed quietly.
Darren kept talking.
"…this part is wrong. Pretty common mistake at first…"
"Maybe we should switch places?" Kyle suddenly interrupted.
Darren looked at him, slightly frowning.
"Why?"
"Well, you're left-handed. You keep bumping into my arm," Kyle said. "It's probably uncomfortable for you."
Darren hummed. His brows immediately relaxed. Then he slowly shook his head.
"No, quite the opposite," he said calmly. "It'd be uncomfortable for me to write in the notebook if I were on the left. And you'd have a harder time seeing."
It didn't work.
"Well…" Kyle dragged out. "I guess you're right."
The lesson continued.
Calm, patient explanations poured into his ears like honey. And sometimes, somewhere beneath that low voice, Kyle actually managed to catch the meaning.
Unexpectedly, Darren's shoulder pressed against his. Then his left hand slowly grazed Kyle's skin as he reached for something in the organizer — as if deliberately testing his patience.
Goosebumps prickled across Kyle's skin. He tensed even harder, breath catching somewhere between his throat and nose.
Darren picked up a highlighter and underlined a sentence. Instead of following the highlighted line, Kyle lifted his eyes to Darren's face.
Somewhere along the way, he realized he'd already been staring too long.
Darren looked back at him. Then leaned closer, shoulder pressing more firmly against Kyle's. His face moved closer too — close enough that Kyle could almost feel his breath at the tip of his nose.
"Do I have something on my face?" Darren asked without breaking eye contact.
Kyle blinked.
"Face," Kyle blurted out.
Silence instantly settled around them.
"Pff—!"
Darren couldn't hold it — he laughed, his face going pink. Through broken breathing, he asked:
"Wouldn't it be stranger if there wasn't a face on my face?"
Blood rushed to Kyle's cheeks. His entire face flared hot, like molten lava had spread beneath his skin.
He dropped the pencil onto the desk harder than necessary, pressed his lips together, and turned away.
"I mean, I understand my face can make people lose their minds…"
Darren dropped his face into his hands, trying to smother another fit of laughter.
After a while, he lifted his watery eyes toward the still-sulking Kyle. Once he caught his breath, he placed a hand on Kyle's shoulder.
Kyle flinched.
"Come on," Darren said. "You just misspoke. Happens to everyone."
The fingers on his shoulder squeezed slightly.
"If something's confusing, just say so. Don't hold back."
Kyle finally turned back toward him. His face was no less red than Darren's had been a minute ago.
And then Darren's expression turned serious. Only the lingering redness in his skin still reminded of the recent laughter. He removed his hand from Kyle's shoulder and reached toward his face instead.
Kyle tracked the approaching finger with his eyes.
Tap.
The tip of Darren's nail pressed softly into Kyle's heated cheek.
Without moving his hand away, Darren tilted his head slightly. His eyes narrowed faintly.
"What…?" Kyle somehow managed to mumble.
Darren leaned closer.
"Stop sulking," he said. "It doesn't suit you."
Kyle frowned.
"I'm not sulking."
"Yeah?"
Darren pressed harder this time, leaving a faint mark from his nail. Then he pulled his finger away for a second and pressed again — this time dangerously close to the corner of Kyle's mouth.
His watchful eyes moved slowly from his own finger to Kyle's eyes and back.
This time, Kyle couldn't react at all. Couldn't force out a single word.
Silence spread around them once more.
Darren licked his lips. A second later, his Adam's apple shifted.
A soft knock at the door made them both flinch, then freeze. No second knock followed.
Kyle jerked back — away from Darren and from the desk. Panic flashed in his eyes before he forced his attention back onto the notebook.
"Hey, guys!"
"Oh, Meg," Kyle immediately looked over. "How was it?"
Darren inhaled deeply.
Megan didn't answer right away. Her gaze shifted between Kyle's slightly flushed face and Darren's calm expression.
If someone looked carefully enough, they might've noticed the faint crease between her brows.
"Everything was great," she finally said, bright. "Shopping went really well. Rachel bought shoes, I got a bag for once…"
Then the information started pouring out of her like a waterfall: store prices, the amazing pants that weren't in her size, how badly her feet hurt after the whole day, how hungry she was.
Kyle shifted his gaze from the notebook to her, trying not to let his eyes drift even a millimeter sideways. Trying to keep his peripheral vision under control.
"So how about you two? All done?"
Kyle silently turned a questioning look toward Darren. His expression was unreadable, his gaze fixed on Kyle.
"Yeah," Darren answered. "We're done."
He rolled his neck slightly and stood.
"I should get going."
Darren picked up the now-light backpack and slung it over one shoulder. Then he walked over to Megan and smiled casually.
"Shopping's great and all, but you do remember Monday, right?"
Megan smirked.
"Me? Come on." She raised a brow. "I already prepared everything. What about you?"
Darren's smile widened.
"Planning to handle it tonight."
Kyle became the silent observer of a few more exchanges about work. At some point, they both laughed.
Differently. Not the way Darren laughed with him.
Megan smacked his shoulder and muttered through her laughter, barely audible:
"Stop it!"
Something in Kyle's chest suddenly stung — like a dull knife. Then tightened, turning breathing into something more difficult than it should've been.
Kyle looked away from them.
"Alright, bye," Darren said to Megan.
Then Kyle felt his gaze land on him. But didn't turn around.
"Until next time," Darren added.
"Mm," Kyle answered quietly.
Megan left with Darren, then returned to the room a few minutes later.
She looked over at her brother. He was still sitting in the exact same position as before. His expression was serious. Almost irritated.
She dropped onto the bed, stretching out, and started saying something. The words didn't quite reach him.
"…homework?"
He hadn't heard her.
"Hm?"
"How'd the homework go?" she repeated. "Am I talking to myself here?"
"Homework…"
His gaze caught on the textbooks covering almost the entire desk. The notebooks. The materials Darren had brought for him.
He blinked slowly and finally finished the sentence:
"Same as always."
Megan rested her head against her hand and studied him carefully. Then followed his gaze.
Textbooks. Spiral notebooks. Notes.
She didn't ask anything else. For some reason, she didn't feel like talking anymore.