Chapter 1

The fluorescent lights of the lab hummed at a frequency that matched the buzzing in Haru’s brain. It was 11:42 PM, the air was thick with the scent of sulfur and over-steeped green tea, and Haru was losing his mind. He kept his eyes fixed on the burette, watching the liquid drip with agonizing slowness. Beside him, Zaid was humming a pop song, leaning against the black-topped workbench with a casual grace that Haru found deeply offensive and wildly attractive.

"Haru, look," Zaid said, sliding his smartphone across the glass-strewn surface.

Haru flinched, nearly knocking over a rack of test tubes. He glanced down. The screen showed a young woman with a radiant smile, framed by a soft lavender hijab. She was stunning, possessing the kind of effortless poise that Zaid carried.

"She’s beautiful," Haru managed, his voice cracking like a dry reed. His heart performed a dismal funeral march. Of course. A guy like Zaid—international, multilingual, and effortlessly cool—would have someone like this waiting for him.

"Right?" Zaid’s grin widened, his dark eyes sparkling. "She is the most important woman in my life, Haru. Truly. I think you should meet someone like her. She has a way of fixing people like you."

Haru felt the "internal wound" of his own inadequacy throb. *Fixing people like me?* He assumed Zaid meant his neuroticism, or perhaps his obvious, bumbling attraction. Haru’s polite Japanese sensibilities kicked into overdrive. He had to be supportive. He had to be the "good friend," even if it meant swallowing the bitter pill of Zaid’s heterosexuality.

"I am... happy for your relationship," Haru said, his English stiffening under the weight of his despair. He grabbed a beaker of phenolphthalein with trembling fingers. "It is good to have such a... perfect partner."

Zaid tilted his head, a lock of dark hair falling over his forehead. "Partner? Well, I suppose she is a partner in crime, sometimes." He leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing Haru’s. "Are you okay? Your hands are shaking. You’re going to overshoot the endpoint."

"I am fine!" Haru squeaked. He was not fine. The proximity was devastating. He could smell Zaid’s laundry detergent—something citrusy and bright. "I just... admire your devotion. To her."

"You’re acting very strange, even for you," Zaid chuckled. He reached out, his large, warm hand closing over Haru’s smaller, colder one to steady the beaker.

The contact sent a literal jolt through Haru. He froze, his breath hitching. In his mind, this was the climax of his tragic, unrequited novella. He couldn't hold it in anymore. If he was going to lose his dignity, he might as well do it thoroughly.

"I support you!" Haru blurted out, staring intensely at the pinkish tint forming in the flask. "Even if I... even if it is difficult to see you with her, I want you to be happy with your girlfriend!"

The lab went silent, save for the hum of the ventilation hood. Zaid’s hand didn't move. Slowly, a low rumble started in Zaid’s chest, escalating into a full-bellied laugh that echoed off the tiled walls.

"Girlfriend?" Zaid gasped, wiping a tear from his eye. "Haru, that’s Aisha. That’s my older sister. She’s a pediatric nurse in Kuala Lumpur."

Haru felt the blood rush to his face so violently he thought he might actually combust. "Sister?"

"Yes! She’s flying into Narita tomorrow to visit. She’s bringing a suitcase full of homemade rendang because she thinks I’m starving myself on convenience store onigiri." Zaid shook his head, still grinning. "Is that why you’ve been looking like the world was ending for the last twenty minutes?"

Haru wanted to dissolve into a puddle of hydrochloric acid. "I... I misunderstood the context. Cultural difference. Very sorry."

He tried to pull his hand away, but Zaid’s grip tightened just a fraction. The laughter died down, replaced by a gaze that was suddenly much more focused, much more intentional. The playful atmosphere shifted into something heavy and electric.

"Wait a second," Zaid murmured, stepping into Haru’s space until their lab coats touched. "If she’s not my girlfriend... why were you looking so heartbroken, Haru?"

Haru’s mouth went dry. He looked at their joined hands, then up at Zaid’s expectant, smirking face. The centrifuge in the corner began to slow down, emitting a long, steady whine before finally dinging. The experiment was over, but the silence between them was thick with a question neither of them had quite answered yet.

Haru didn't look away. For the first time all night, his hands stopped shaking. He didn't answer, but he didn't pull away either, leaving the air between them charged with a chemical reaction that had nothing to do with the lab.