One
The waves of laughter start to grind on Quinn’s nerves. How are her classmates capable of drowning in serotonin after fighting each other?
Just when some of them were about to ask her a question, Kyrie—her best friend for years and saviour, as he’s been labelled—taps her shoulders. Sighing in relief, she gets up and grabs her bag in one arm and her coat in the other. That’s when Kyrie takes the coat from her hand and holds it in his, performing the small act of a gentleman in his drunken state. Quinn is ready to swat any fly that dares stop them from leaving this soon-to-be-a-drunk pub.
“Hey! Heading out already?” their class representative asks, giggling and leaning on his roommate and best friend, who looks ready to drown him in litres of water—judging by the way he scrunches his nose and tries to push the drunk man off him.
Poor guy.
Quinn sighs. “We’re bees, always busy. Past our bedtime,” she drones, tugging Kyrie’s shirt—he blinks furiously, fighting sleep—and pulls him out of sight.
“Gotta go, everyone. Thank you for the invitation. Hope this is the last.” Quinn murmurs as she exits the scene.
Without a second glance, she slips past the pub’s doors, ignoring the yells of betrayal. She never pays attention, just like in the past. It’s their fault for not keeping the reunion on a Friday or a Saturday night. And who cares about a reunion when all they do is talk shit and blah blah bullshit. Most of it, Quinn hates more when they talk crap about Kyrie, knowing very well they’re best friends.
“It hurts.” Kyrie winces, placing a hand on his chest and rubbing it.
Quinn raises her eyebrows. “Didn’t I signal you to stop after two shots?”
He frowns. “But you shook your hand twice; didn’t it mean to take more?”
Anything can change—the sky, the taste of water, her growing a moustache, Kyrie’s sudden growth spurt, and the storyline—but his inability to grasp her nonverbal cues stays the same. This is both reassuring and frustrating for Quinn, making her crave a change in their friendship’s tune. On one hand, it reassures her like a favourite song, familiar and comforting, yet on the other, it frustrates her with its stubborn refusal to evolve into the melody of something more. Each misinterpretation, each missed signal, feeds into her growing desire for change, for a new refrain rather than the steadfast one in their friendship.
They’ve been friends since the day they realised they both shared a love for nature, after a field trip in elementary school. Their bond is so tight that she treats him like family, though it’d be a lie to say she never wanted to push him off a waterfall.
However, she has always been his biggest supporter and secret admirer.
Hailing a taxi, she manages to tell the driver her best friend’s address while struggling with his heavy weight. Out of habit, Kyrie interlinks his fingers with hers. The awkward position—weight of his head on her left shoulder, his elbow resting on her stomach, and his right thumb pressing, grazing her left thumb—awakens years of flashbacks where she breathes slowly, holding back the tremors of hysteria so he can finish his sleepless nights.
Her feelings for him are abrupt. She wakes up one day with the thought of liking the idea that they’re more than this.
She’s sure of her feelings, but what about Kyrie? Does he think of her as more than a friend? Does he ever view her as a potential romantic partner? Does he ever even consider crossing the secured friendship zone? Does he?
The answers remain blank.
What will Kyrie answer if she confesses? Quinn has a few ideas: mocking her until death tears them apart, a friendship breakup, or crying over the rejection he’s about to give. All of the answers are difficult for both of them.
The worst could be him pretending he doesn’t mind her questions, but secretly being unable to stand the guilt of not returning her feelings.
Quinn is an impatient person; she finishes work quickly, clears her plate before her family, and drives early to her workplace to avoid getting caught in the morning office rush. She plans her schedule in advance and always prepares for backup, haunted by the fear of what if? The thought eats at her mind.
The exact anxiety follows her when it comes to Kyrie. What if those words put an end to their year-long friendship? She doesn’t want to lose him, nor does she want to keep dragging her feelings along.
And right now, the biggest task was dragging her crush to his apartment.
