It did not happen often, but sometimes the universe aligned their schedules like it was bored and wanted entertainment.
Lucien usually had morning classes.
Adrian preferred the afternoon ones.
But today, somehow, they had this class together.
Which was unfortunate.
Or fortunate. Depending on who you asked.
They sat side by side, of course. Still committed to their grand and overly dramatic plan of becoming "best friends." The kind of friendship that sounded suspiciously contractual.
The classroom smelled faintly of whiteboard markers and old wood. The professor was talking about something that required attention.
Neither of them was paying any.
Lucien leaned back in his chair, pencil moving lazily across his notebook.
He was not taking notes.
He was drawing.
Small meaningless shapes. Half-finished eyes. A cat. A sleeve.
He hated this class.
Beside him, Adrian had one earbud in. The other dangled loosely, just in case he needed to pretend he was listening.
He was not.
He scrolled through his phone with the bored elegance of someone who refused to academically participate.
—You're not even trying —Lucien muttered, not looking at him.
—Trying what? —Adrian replied calmly, eyes still on his screen.
—To look decent. The professor already thinks you're a lost cause.
Adrian finally glanced at him.
—Bold of you to assume I care.
Lucien smirked slightly, tapping his pencil against the notebook.
—You should. Your grades are tragic.
—And yet here you are, doodling instead of saving yourself academically —Adrian tilted his head, faintly amused.
Lucien closed the notebook slowly.
—This class is beneath me.
—Sure —Adrian nodded seriously— and I'm the president.
Silence.
The professor's voice droned in the background like white noise.
Lucien rested his chin on his hand, staring forward with visible disinterest.
—You're listening to music, aren't you? —he asked suddenly.
Adrian did not deny it.
—Maybe.
—In the middle of class?
—It improves my mental health.
Lucien scoffed quietly.
—You're unbelievable.
Adrian leaned slightly closer.
—You dragged me to a boutique instead of coffee yesterday.
Lucien stiffened just a little.
—That was strategic.
—That was emotional shopping.
Lucien turned his head slowly.
—Are you still upset about the sweater?
—It had a bear on it.
—It was cute.
—It was unnecessary.
Lucien narrowed his eyes.
—You looked at it twice.
Adrian paused.
—That's not proof.
Lucien leaned closer now, lowering his voice.
—You also looked at me when I said I'd buy you something.
Adrian blinked once.
Then twice.
—That's called eye contact.
—That's called hesitation.
Adrian pulled one earbud out.
—You overanalyze everything.
Lucien smiled faintly.
—And you avoid everything.
They stared at each other for a second too long.
The professor cleared his throat loudly from the front of the room.
Neither moved.
Adrian slipped his phone into his pocket.
—Fine. Best friend rule number one —he said quietly.
Lucien raised a brow.
—We don't expose each other's academic negligence.
Lucien extended his hand dramatically.
—Deal.
Adrian shook it once.
—Deal.
A pause.
Lucien tilted his head slightly.
— of course you would say deal—he said softly, smiling just enough to be dangerous.
Adrian blinked.
—What was that for?
—Nothing.
Lucien opened his notebook again, pretending to write now.
Adrian watched him for a moment.
He did not put his earbud back in.
For the first time that class, he was actually paying attention.but to Lucien
After classes, they drifted toward the university bench area.
Late afternoon light stretched across the concrete. Students lingered in small groups. Someone was laughing too loudly near the vending machines. Backpacks lay abandoned like temporary declarations of territory.
Adrián sat first.
He dropped onto the bench with effortless confidence, then leaned back, stretching one arm along the backrest. One leg extended comfortably, the other bent at the knee, foot resting on the wood. Relaxed. Unbothered. Like the bench had been designed specifically for him.
Lucien arrived a second later.
He looked at the bench.
Looked at Adrián.
Then sat beside him.
Close.
He crossed his legs immediately, one knee resting neatly over the other. Back straight. Hands folded lightly over his lap. Composed. Intentional.
Adrián glanced sideways.
—You sit like you're attending a formal interview.—
He tilted his head slightly.
Lucien adjusted his sleeve calmly.
—I sit correctly.
—Correctly for what? A documentary about posture?—
Lucien gave him a look.
—Not everyone collapses into public furniture.
Adrián smirked faintly.
—I'm comfortable.
Lucien crossed his arms now, still with legs neatly folded.
—You look horizontal.
—You look stressed.—
Adrián's eyes traced his posture deliberately.
Lucien uncrossed his arms, then crossed them again.
—This bench is uneven.
—It's wood.
—Exactly.
A brief silence passed. The wind shifted, moving Lucien's hair slightly across his forehead.
Adrián noticed.
—You're thinking too loudly.—
He said lazily.
Lucien turned his head.
—I'm not thinking loudly.
—You are. I can see it in your eyebrows.
Lucien narrowed his eyes faintly.
—You're insufferable.
Adrián's bent knee shifted slightly, brushing against Lucien's thigh.
Accidental.
Probably.
Lucien stiffened for half a second.
Then deliberately adjusted his crossed legs, but didn't move away.
—You're invading my space.—
He said calmly.
Adrián didn't move his leg.
—You sat next to me.
Lucien held his gaze.
—There were other benches.
Adrián's mouth curved slowly.
—And yet.
Lucien looked forward again, jaw tightening just a little.
A group of students walked past them. Laughter faded into the distance.
Adrián studied him quietly.
—You don't have to sit so rigid.—
He said softer this time.
Lucien hesitated.
Then slowly leaned back against the bench, still with his legs crossed, but less tense.
—Better?—
He asked, controlled.
Adrián nodded once.
—Less statue. More human.
Lucien glanced at him sideways.
—Careful.
—Why?
Lucien's voice lowered just slightly.
—I might get used to this.if you become my friend there's no turning back
_________________________________________
Their friendship had started in the strangest way possible.
Locked in a room.
Awkward. Unexpected. Slightly chaotic.
And somehow, that rare, uncomfortable beginning had unfolded into something else entirely.
Months passed.
What began as coincidence became routine.
What began as tension became rhythm.
They spent time together naturally now.
Not forced. Not dramatic.
Just… constant.
Sometimes they had classes together. Sometimes they didn't. Their schedules rarely aligned perfectly, but when they did, they sat together without even discussing it.
Lucien still pretended to be above half the lectures.
Adrián still pretended not to care about grades.
They walked home together often.
Both lived in the same condominium complex, just different apartments, different floors. Close enough to say "see you tomorrow" in the elevator.
Some evenings, Lucien stayed at Adrián's place.
Other nights, Adrián ended up at Lucien's.
They would move from room to room without purpose. Kitchen to balcony. Balcony to couch. Couch to floor. Floor to desk.
Lucien bought him things sometimes.
Not extravagantly. Just randomly.
A book he thought Adrián would like. A shirt. Snacks. Once, a ridiculous keychain shaped like a cat wearing sunglasses.
Adrián bought him things too.
Less polished. More impulsive.
Energy drinks when Lucien studied too long. A bracelet from a street stand. A notebook because "you finish yours too fast."
They studied together in the library.
Sometimes actually studying.
Sometimes not.
Lucien would take neat notes.
Adrián would copy half of them and then distract him with commentary.
They exchanged gifts on birthdays.
Small ones.
Inside jokes wrapped in paper.
Sarcasm became their second language.
Bullying became affection.
—You're dramatic.—
—You're emotionally illiterate.—
—You shop when you feel things.—
—You scroll when you avoid them.—
They argued over music.
Over food.
Over which movie was objectively better.
But they always showed up.
Months went by like that.
Easy.
Comfortable.
Intentional.
Their friendship was no longer strange.
It was full.
Full of teasing.
Full of routine.
Full of small, unnoticed loyalty.
And neither of them realized when it stopped feeling accidental
and started feeling essential.
Saturday.
8:00 a.m.
Rain attacked the windows like it had personal issues. The sky was gray, heavy, dramatic for no reason.
Lucien had been studying for hours.
Notes everywhere. Laptop open. Highlighter dying a slow fluorescent death.
He was exhausted.
When he gets stressed, he doesn't yell. He doesn't complain. He implodes.
So he gave up.
Turned on a movie.
Bad decision.
Halfway through, the main character's dog got sick.
Lucien froze.
—No.—
He whispered at the screen.
Five minutes later, the dog died.
And so did Lucien's emotional stability.
He was crying.
Actually crying.
Shoulders shaking. Face buried in his sleeve. Completely betrayed by fictional cinema.
The door unlocked.
Adrián walked in casually, holding a paper bag and two coffees.
—Good morning, academic weapon—
He stopped mid-sentence.
Lucien was on the couch.
Red eyes. Wet cheeks. TV still playing sad music.
Adrián blinked.
—…What happened?—
He slowly set the breakfast down.
Lucien didn't look at him.
—The dog died.—
His voice cracked slightly.
Adrián stared at him.
—You're joking.
Lucien pointed weakly at the screen.
—It was unnecessary.
Adrián looked at the TV. Looked back at Lucien.
Silence.
And then—
Adrián sat beside him.
Close.
Too close.
He grabbed a napkin and handed it to him.
—You're crying. Over. A fictional dog.—
His tone started to shift.
Lucien sniffed.
—Don't start.
Adrián squinted at him.
—You survived midterms but this is your breaking point?
Lucien glared at him with watery eyes.
—You have no emotional depth.
Adrián leaned back dramatically.
—Excuse me. I have depth. I just don't cry before 9 a.m.
Lucien covered his face again.
Adrián studied him for a second… and then his mouth curved.
He nudged Lucien's shoulder lightly.
—You look like the dog personally betrayed you.
Lucien let out a shaky breath.
—It was loyal.
—It was pixels.
Lucien tried to stay serious.
Failed slightly.
Adrián noticed immediately.
He leaned closer, lowering his voice.
—Tell me you didn't pause the movie to process it.
Lucien hesitated.
Adrián gasped theatrically.
—You did.
Lucien wiped his face aggressively.
—Shut up.
Adrián grinned.
—Did you rewind the scene? Analyze the symbolism?
Lucien's lips twitched.
—You're insufferable.
—And yet—
Adrián grabbed the coffee and placed it in Lucien's hand—
I brought breakfast for the most emotionally devastated man alive.
Lucien tried to glare.
It didn't work.
Adrián tilted his head.
—Should we hold a funeral? Candle? Speech?
Lucien let out an actual laugh this time.
Small. Weak. But real.
Adrián pointed at him.
—There it is. That's the sound of recovery.
Lucien shook his head, embarrassed.
—You're horrible.
Adrián shrugged.
—I'm efficient. You were spiraling. I intervened.
He opened the breakfast bag and shoved a pastry into Lucien's hand.
—Eat. You don't get to cry over cinematic tragedy on an empty stomach.
Lucien leaned back into the couch.
Still red-eyed.
Still tired.
But smiling now.
Adrián rested his arm along the back of the couch.
—Next time, text me before watching something with animals.
Lucien looked at him sideways.
—Why?
—So I can prepare emotionally. Or at least bring tissues.
Lucien rolled his eyes.
But this time, he leaned slightly into him.
And Adrián pretended not to notice.
Because teasing was easier
than admitting he'd been worried for a second.
They were sitting on the couch now.
Rain still pounding outside. The movie paused on a painfully sentimental freeze frame. The tragic dog forever mid-memory.
Lucien held his coffee with both hands, calmer now. Eyes still slightly red. Hair a little messy from wiping his face in frustration.
Adrián was eating like nothing historic had just occurred.
—You're dramatic.—
He took another bite of his pastry.
Lucien narrowed his eyes.
—You walked into my apartment and found me crying at eight in the morning. That's not dramatic. That's devastating.
Adrián smirked.
—You said "the dog died" like someone called you with breaking news.
Lucien looked away, embarrassed.
—It was unexpected.
Adrián leaned back, stretching one arm over the couch.
—You should vet your movies better. Emotional background checks.
Lucien rolled his eyes but took a bite of his food.
There was a pause.
The teasing energy softened.
Adrián stared at his coffee cup for a second.
Then at Lucien.
—You actually scared me. I thought something happened to you.—
He said it casually, like it wasn't important.
Lucien blinked.
—What?
Adrián shrugged, pretending it was nothing.
—You were crying like someone died in real life.
Lucien studied him quietly.
—You were worried.
Adrián took a sip of coffee.
—Don't get ahead of yourself.
Lucien's mouth curved slightly.
—You were worried.—
He repeated.
Adrián exhaled through his nose.
—For like three seconds.
Lucien tilted his head.
—That's significant for you.
Adrián shot him a look.
—You were pale. And quiet. That's not normal.
Lucien softened at that.
—You came in without knocking.
—We have keys.—
Adrián defended.
—You still don't knock.
Adrián leaned closer slightly.
—If I knocked, I wouldn't have caught you mid-meltdown.
Lucien tried to glare.
Failed again.
—You're never letting this go, are you?
Adrián grinned.
—Absolutely not. This is long-term material.
Lucien took another sip of coffee, hiding a small smile.
—You thought something happened to me.—
He murmured, almost to himself.
Adrián nudged his knee lightly.
—Yeah, well. Try not to look like you're collapsing before breakfast next time.
Lucien leaned back into the couch.
—You stayed.
Adrián shrugged again.
—I brought food. It would've been rude to leave.
Lucien didn't argue.
The rain softened outside.
And this time, neither of them mentioned that the fear in Adrián's voice earlier
had not sounded like a joke.