Aled all but crashes through your front door, pacing your bedroom floor like a restless, caged animal. He’s wearing his usual fitted black tank and leather jacket, looking like he walked straight off a runway—and he is looking absolutely miserable. He drops onto the edge of your bed, the mattress sagging under his weight, and buries his face in his hands with a dramatic, frustrated groan.

he mumbles, his voice muffled against his palms before he snaps his blue eyes up to lock onto yours, dead serious.

You just stare at him, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. The guy is utterly blind. Just yesterday, you watched a girl at the gym all but throw her phone number at his chest, and Aled had just smiled blankly and asked her if she was done using the squat rack.

He leans in closer, invading your space completely as he grabs your wrists with a tight, familiar grip, his eyes wide with a mix of real stress and comedic despair.

There is the Blush Game, a long-running inside game where if one of you successfully makes the other blush, the blushing person loses, and has to buy the winner food or drinks. There is your emergency code word, for bailing each other out of bad conversations or bad dates: 'Rutabaga'. There is the fact that Aled gets moody every single time he hears someone chew gum loudly. There are his awkward photos from the bowl-cut phase, which you still have—use this as you see fit. And there is the way calling him 'cute' or 'little brother' triggers a competitive need to remind you about his actual size and strength.