Ryan moved through the day the way he always did when nothing was actively falling apart. He stuck to his usual routine. His morning shift, his path to campus, lectures, short breaks, cafeteria, evening shifts, and a little night reading. He checked the time often, kept his schedule tight, and made sure he didn't linger too long in one place.
It wasn't a particularly good day or a bad one. It was just steady and manageable. He liked days like that. Those days that demanded no explanations or decisions. Days didn't rush him, or make him feel the need to be rushed, like he was constantly searching for something beyond reach. He let the routine he carefully built for himself carry through the day.
By late afternoon, the campus had taken on that vibe where everything just felt in-between. Not busy, not quiet, with students sitting on benches pretending to study. Others crossed the lawns in small clusters, laughing too loudly, like they had no expectations or care in the world.
Ryan watched them from the library steps where he was waiting for Ethan, his backpack slung over one shoulder... and his phone heavy in his pocket.
From time to time, it kept buzzing, but he didn't bother checking it.
That part was deliberate. If he checked and it was not what he expected, it would sting all over again. If he checked in excitement and there was something, it would mean he'd been waiting. And he had resolved he wasn't doing any more of that.
Ethan didn't show up within the 10 minutes he had said, so Ryan just headed to work instead.
The café sat somewhere not far, yet not close, from campus. It was halfway glass-walled with soft music, like it was trying too hard to be relaxing. Ryan tied his apron, checked in, and began the routine of the day.
Orders. Receipts. Fake polite smiles. They were easy in a way emotions weren't.
And halfway through his shift, his phone buzzed.
A message from Ethan.
Ryan! I'm being serious. We're shopping this evening, cause there's absolutely no way you're going to BAD looking like a mug.
Despite the seriousness of the message, Ryan let out a low careful laugh, trying not to disturb the quiet of the café. Maybe it was Ethan's attempt at trying to sound stern that made it funny. He shook his head, still smiling.
And he still didn't feel the urge to buy extra clothes.
Earlier that morning, while Ryan was getting ready for his shift, Ethan had asked out of nowhere what he planned to wear to the party.
"What do you mean what I plan to wear?" Ryan had mumbled, toothbrush in his mouth, and foam lining his lips. "Is there a theme or something?"
"Nah," Ethan said, eyeing him without a hint of humor. "But there are outfits for parties, and there are outfits you don't dare wear, even within two kilometers of a party."
Ryan ignored him and headed toward the bathroom. Just as he reached for the door, a hand caught the handle and forced it shut.
"What?" Ryan blurted, trying to hide the shock in his voice. "Wha… what is it?"
He stepped back, looking up at Ethan, who was clearly taller than him.
Ethan said nothing.
Reading the silence for what it was, Ryan sighed and walked to his wardrobe in retreat, rummaging through it slowly. He knew exactly the kind of outfits Ethan expected him to pull out. The problem was that, as someone who wasn't much of a party-goer, he had never felt the need to own any of them.
Well, he'd better accept whatever I show him, Ryan thought, exhaling quietly.
After what felt like forever, he pulled out what he considered his 'best option'.
"You plan on wearing this?" Ethan held up the clothes, scrutinizing them like he was searching for something... anything good about it. "Just this?" He raised an eyebrow.
They were a pair of sun-faded blue jeans and a plain, worn-out black T-shirt.
"Is it bad?" Ryan asked, unsure how to name the feeling crawling up his chest. He wrapped one hand around his waist, flicking his fingers nervously with the other. "Is it… that bad?"
"Yes," Ethan snapped. "It is. It's that bad, Ryan." He ran a hand over his hair, then continued more quietly. "You remember what happened when we went to The Elite, right? Even though you were dressed better than this, they still didn't let us in. Well, BAD isn't as strict as the Elites, but we're not taking chances."
He shoved the clothes back into Ryan's hands. "If you were going just to dance and mess around like me, I wouldn't care. But you're not. You're going to network, meet new people, and make friends. And you think anyone's going to take someone dressed in rags seriously?"
"My clothes aren't rags," Ryan snapped back, folding the scattered clothes and shoving them into the wardrobe.
"Whatever you say," Ethan scoffed. "This evening, we're hitting a clothing store. And you better not disappear on me."
"Ethan, can't I just wear this? It feels like a waste of money to buy something I'll only wear once."
"You shouldn't think like that, my dear Ryan." Ethan rested a hand on his shoulder. "It doesn't hurt to spend on yourself once in a while. Besides, you can just think of it as an investment. I guarantee you'll get a high ROI from this party."
He nodded confidently, like the matter was already settled. "Thank goodness I asked. Imagine the horror if tomorrow came and you showed up in this." He shuddered at the thought of it. "No. It's too gruesome to even think of."
Reluctantly, Ryan let it go. Continuing the argument was pointless. Not because Ethan was better with words, but because he simply wouldn't back down. And Ryan was already running late for his shift. Ethan, meanwhile, was happily skipping the morning lecture.
By the time the day progressed, Ryan had almost forgotten about their earlier bickering.
"Perfect timing to ruin my mood," he muttered, slipping his phone into the green apron with MingMing Café printed across it.
Do people still name cafés after their child's nickname? he thought, as he trailed off, picking up a tray of iced Americano and a slice of strawberry cake.
He carried it over to table three.
_____________________
Evening came slowly with Ethan already waiting at a corner, twenty minutes before Ryan's shift ended... maybe he thought Ryan would bolt the second he clocked out. Ryan caught his eye and signaled he was ready, and the two of them set off, boarding a bus to the nearest high-end clothing store.
Throughout the drive, Ryan couldn't stop thinking about what he had to forfeit for the party. A night gig and the cost of getting this outfit. He sighed, knowing fully well it wouldn't be cheap.
The store was a little way from the café, and by the time they arrived, it was still early. At each corner of the store were racks packed with edgy, Y2K-inspired streetwear: shiny vinyl jackets, cropped tops, oversized hoodies with bold prints, and sleek pants that looked like it made every head turn. The whole vibe screamed fashion, with striking party-ready energy.
"This is sooo cool," Ethan's words stretched in excitement halfway down the aisle. "I love it." He pulled a jacket off a rack and held it up in front of Ryan. A black one, glossy and loaded with zippers. The kind of clothing that wanted attention, whether you gave it or not.
"This will look good on you," Ethan added, still holding the jacket up in front of Ryan. "Try it."
Ryan eyed it skeptically. "You should know that's definitely not happening."
"Whoa, calm down. You're just trying it out, not marrying it."
Ryan took the jacket anyway, weighing it in his hands. It felt heavier and costlier than it looked. He held it up to his chest, looked over the mirror, then shook his head. "This is just being too much," he said.
"That's the point..."
"It's your point," he snapped, "Not mine."
Ethan let out a low sound, retreating and already reaching for something else. "Fine, whatever you say. Since this is like... an experiment," he shrugged, baring his teeth.
"Aren't you picking yours?" Ryan asked. He asked, trying to sound uninterested.
"Not yet," Ethan brushed off, drifting towards a rack of electric-blue pants, patting them lightly. "You're the star of the day, Ryan. And after the star picks his outfit, the moon, which is me, can pick mine." He pointed at himself with a self-aware grin, clearly pleased with the joke his friend didn't find funny.
Ryan walked down a row, hands tucked in pocket, legs dragging. He was obviously tired. He had lost count of how much time had passed as they kept trying different outfits. And they seemed not ready to settle for any.
Either Ryan did a quick glance at his reflection in the fit and handed it back with a flat, "It's too much."
Or Ethan, with an entire scale of disappointment on his face. "It's not enough," he'd say, head tilted and lips pursed. Or, "It's fine, but it doesn't do anything." Sometimes he wouldn't even finish the sentence.
At some point, Ryan stopped actively judging.
He just reached, picking up something at random. He didn't inspect it closely, just dropped it over his arm and turned back.
Ethan stepped out of the dressing room, and the outfit hit first. A cropped brown hoodie over a black tee, and ridiculous baggy sand-washed jeans that somehow worked, over a white sneakers. Silver chains at his chest, and a keychain swinging at his hip.
It looked effortless, like he hadn't even tried or had any need to
Ethan lifted his head and noticed Ryan standing there.
"What's that?" he asked, tipping his head towards the clothes hung over Ryan's arm.
"It's... just something I picked up," Ryan shrugged. "Hope you like it this time."
He didn't wait for an answer before disappearing into the dressing room.
The fitting area was narrow, mirrors lining the walls like they were daring him to look too closely. He changed slowly.
When he was finally done, the door creaked open, the sound barely noticeable, but Ethan still looked up instantly.
He blinked once. Then again.
Ryan stood there in contrast with the store's noise and color. A white compression tee fitting him clean, with black curved panels cutting across his torso like it had a purpose. The pants did the opposite. They were distressed black denim that looked like they were reconstructed at wrong angles, its raw seams exposed. Like someone had hidden to take it apart and put it back together.
And the silver belt. They sat on his almost invincible waist like it drew attention without trying
Ryan shifted against the stare. "What? Hope you aren't about to say something negative."
Ethan exhaled slowly.
"Well," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "For once, that's… not bad."
"I'm definitely proud of you," Ethan added with a nod, clearly exhausted now.
Ryan's shoulders eased a little. "We're going with this, right? Before you change your mind."
"Yeah." Ethan turned back toward the dressing room. "Let's pay. I'm fucking tired."
"Hey," Ryan protested weakly. "That's supposed to be my line."
"How?" Ethan replied, already pulling the clothes off, "When you're practically the one who kept dragging this out."
Ryan scoffed, but didn't argue.
Their voices faded into the store as they headed for the counter, and minutes later, they were back outside, making their way toward the bus stop