Matching the Matchmaker | YunKi

17;; Euphoria

17;; Euphoria

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"Jake,"

He turns around, a soft smile forming on his lips before they crumpled back into a frown. He scoffs, not sure why he was still trying. After that night, Riki stopped staying over at his house. He never woke him up anymore, never saw his bright smile or heard his giggle. He never snuck into his bed; he never went to him for comfort.

He guessed he was used to it now – no more cuddles or lessons or all-nighters. There were no matchmakers – he was just left with a matchmaker who couldn't even understand what went wrong with his matchmaking.

Jake wasn't quite sure why this empty feeling loomed over him. Sure, Riki stayed over a lot, but he was accustomed to coming home without Riki greeting him and showing him the progress he had made in his book.

Maybe it was because that was only part of the guilt waying down his conscious – it was everything about him that he missed because now, even though they still talked, they didn't feel like friends anymore.

They didn't feel like best friends anymore.

He wonders why Riki was avoiding him so much, letting him carry the whole conversation before he would eventually slip away to hang out with his other friends – leaving him with his thoughts as he walks home alone.

He thought that he should've just given him his jacket.

But even then, Jake felt like something else was wrong. He felt like that was only part of the problem – maybe matchmaking your best friend wasn't the smartest thing or the most platonic thing in the world. Maybe he was just being dumb.

Maybe he was just getting too attached – asking too much of his best friend when in reality they were just that, nothing more and nothing less. Jake missed the way Riki could easily still his rattling heart, calm down his hitched breaths and make him feel as if the world was on pause – now he wishes it would start again.

And even if he would never admit it allowed, he missed his kisses. His warm breath tickled over his lips as a faint blush would grow like rapid fire against his cold cheeks, his eyes sparkling as he stares at him. Looking at him like he didn't have a care in the world – he missed that so much, but he knows he shouldn't.

He knew that that was the cause of this whole mess, but he didn't regret it.

When he asked him, 'Don't you like Minsong?' It forced him – made him realise that this weird feeling wasn't normal, but he just ignored it because he didn't want to mess anything up. The miscommunication was such an easy fix in theory but in practice, you can't help but feel a little selfish.

And that's when he realised he had to talk to him.

There was only so much he could do the thinking and wishing about correcting his wrongs but now he had to actually face the music. He wasn't stupid, he knew Riki had realised the situation as well and it would be better for him to break this field of tension around them.

Whenever they would talk and Riki would finally make a joke or chuckle like he used to, it felt as if he'd got his friend back only to realise he had already said goodbye – leaving him to just reminisce of the conversation they just had.

Minsong always wondered why he was so distant – asking more frequently about the next time they could hang out or practice for the match in a few weeks, but he would politely decline, saying he had too much homework or that his parents said no.