Norman had always been a quiet child.
He was the type to sit in the corner with a book rather than run around the playground, the type to observe rather than jump into things without thinking. He was polite, well-mannered, and—according to his teachers—exceptionally smart for his age. But at five years old, none of that really mattered.
What did matter was that Norman had no real friends.
It wasn’t as if the other children disliked him—some even admired him for how easily he solved puzzles or answered questions in class. But admiration wasn’t friendship, and Norman didn’t know how to approach people on his own. So he spent his days alone, quietly reading, never quite lonely but never really included, either.
And then he met Emma.
It was a bright, breezy afternoon, the kind where the sun hung high in the sky and the air smelled like freshly cut grass. Norman was sitting on the playground steps, immersed in a picture book about animals, when a shadow suddenly blocked his light.
“Hey!”
Norman flinched, startled. He looked up—only to be met with the sight of a girl with wild, fiery red hair and the brightest grin he had ever seen.
She plopped down beside him without hesitation, completely ignoring the concept of personal space. “What are you reading?”
Norman blinked. “…A book.”
Her eyes widened. “You can read?”
“…Yes?”
“That’s so cool!” She scooted even closer, practically bouncing in place. “Teach me!”
Norman just stared at her. Who was this girl?
Before he could figure out how to respond, she reached out and poked his book. “What’s this one about?”
“Animals.”
“Oh! What kind?”
“All kinds.”
“Even lions?”
“…Yes.”
She gasped. “Lions are awesome! They go roar!”
Norman had no idea what was happening.
This girl—who he had never met before—had just appeared out of nowhere, inserted herself into his space, and started talking like they were already friends. It was confusing. It was overwhelming. It was—
Kind of nice.
“…Do you want me to read it to you?” he found himself asking.
Her entire face lit up. “Yes!”
And that was how Norman met Emma.
---
The next day, she came back. And the day after that.
It didn’t take long for Norman to realize that Emma was the kind of person who didn’t just make friends—she claimed them. She was loud, energetic, and absolutely terrible at sitting still, but she was also warm and genuine in a way that made it impossible to dislike her.
And somehow, she decided Norman was her best friend.
He wasn’t sure when, exactly, that decision was made, but it was undeniable.
She started dragging him everywhere, chattering excitedly about anything and everything. If they had snack time, she split hers with him. If they had partner activities, she chose him without hesitation. If he was sitting alone, she immediately plopped down beside him, as if she had a built-in radar that told her whenever he wasn’t by her side.
It was… strange.
But Norman didn’t mind.
Emma made the world feel brighter.
---
Then there was Ray.
Ray was different from Emma in every way. While she was loud and impulsive, Ray was quiet and reserved. While she ran around making friends with everyone, Ray kept to himself, always found sitting alone under the big tree near the playground.
Emma noticed him first.
“Why does he always sit by himself?” she asked one day, watching as Ray flipped through a book in the shade.
Norman followed her gaze. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe we should go talk to him!”
“…Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
Emma turned to him, determined. “No one should be alone all the time.”
And just like that, Norman found himself being dragged across the playground, straight toward the grumpy-looking boy under the tree.
Ray barely glanced up when they approached. “What do you want?”
Emma plopped down in front of him, undeterred. “What are you reading?”
Ray gave her a flat look. “A book.”
Norman had the weirdest sense of déjà vu.
Emma didn’t seem to notice. She grinned and sat even closer. “Cool! I like books, too.”
Ray raised an eyebrow. “Really? What’s your favorite?”
“Uh…” Emma faltered.
Norman sighed. “She can’t read yet.”
Ray turned to Emma, unimpressed. “Then why are you acting like you like books?”
“I do like books! I just like the pictures!”
“That’s not the same thing.”
“Well, maybe you’re not the same thing!”
“…What?”
Norman covered his face with his hands. This was already a disaster.
But Emma wasn’t one to give up easily. For the next few days, she kept bothering Ray, sitting with him under the tree no matter how much he scowled. Norman started sitting with them too, more out of obligation than anything else.
And then—somehow, slowly—Ray started scowling less.
It started small. He stopped telling them to go away. Then he started responding to their conversations instead of just tolerating them. Then he started initiating conversations, asking Norman about his books or arguing with Emma about the dumbest things.
And before any of them realized it, they were friends.
Just like that.
---
From that day on, the three of them were inseparable.
If one of them was in trouble, the others were there to help. If one of them was sad, the others did everything they could to cheer them up. If one of them had a dumb idea, the others somehow ended up going along with it (mostly because of Emma’s puppy-dog eyes).
Norman never questioned it.
Never once thought about a world where they weren’t always together.
And, as far as he was concerned, nothing would ever change.
Because they were best friends.
And best friends stayed together.
Always.
---
If childhood was a time of endless adventures and simple friendships, then high school was the part where reality started setting in.
Not that Emma, Norman, or Ray had drifted apart. Far from it. They were still the same trio who spent all their time together, who knew each other better than anyone else, who couldn’t go a single day without somehow getting tangled in each other’s lives. But high school came with its own set of challenges—exams, extracurriculars, future plans, and the growing awareness that, one day, they wouldn’t have the luxury of being in the same place all the time.
Still, some things never changed.
---
“Emma, stop eating my lunch.”
“But Norman—”
“No.”
“Just one bite—”
“No.”
Emma groaned dramatically, flopping onto the cafeteria table like she was on the verge of death. “You’re so mean.”
Norman, completely unaffected, continued eating. “You have your own food.”
“But yours looks better.”
Ray snorted, flipping a page of his book. “That’s because Norman actually knows how to cook.”
Emma gasped, offended. “Are you saying I don’t know how to cook?”
“I’m saying you almost burned water once.”
“That was one time!”
“And you set off the smoke alarm last week.”
“…That was also one time.”
Norman smiled into his food. This was routine—Emma stealing his food, Ray making sarcastic comments, and the three of them bickering over lunch like an old married couple. It was comforting, familiar, a part of their daily lives that never changed no matter how busy school got.
“Fine,” Emma huffed, sitting up. “If you won’t share, then I’ll just get my own food.”
“You should’ve done that in the first place.”
She ignored him.
As she left for the lunch line, Norman turned to Ray. “How’s the book?”
“Boring,” Ray replied flatly, setting it down. “I thought it’d be better, but it’s just a rehash of every other sci-fi novel I’ve read.”
“Then why keep reading?”
Ray shrugged. “Habit, I guess.”
Norman hummed, finishing the last of his rice. He glanced around the cafeteria, absentmindedly watching other students. Some were chatting with friends, some were studying, and some—like Emma—were loudly bargaining for extra food.
It was hard to believe they were already sixteen.
Time had flown by so fast. It felt like just yesterday they were kids running around the playground, getting into trouble, and promising they’d always stay together. But now they were in their second year of high school, one step closer to adulthood, and the future was something they actually had to think about.
Norman didn’t know how he felt about that.
“You’re overthinking again,” Ray said, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Norman sighed. “Is it that obvious?”
“Painfully.”
Before Norman could reply, Emma returned, triumphantly holding a plate of food. “I got extra meat!”
Ray raised an eyebrow. “What did you bribe them with?”
Emma grinned. “My winning smile.”
“…You mean you blackmailed them, didn’t you?”
She gasped. “Ray! How could you accuse me of such things?”
Ray just stared at her.
Norman chuckled, shaking his head. Some things never changed.
---
Despite how chaotic Emma was, or how grumpy Ray pretended to be, the three of them balanced each other out. Emma kept things lively, Norman kept things organized, and Ray kept them both from doing anything too stupid. It had been that way since childhood, and Norman figured it would always be that way.
But, deep down, a part of him knew that wasn’t true.
High school came with responsibilities. University applications were creeping up, and soon they’d have to decide what they wanted to do with their futures.
Norman already had a solid academic record. His teachers praised him, universities were already looking at him, and if he played his cards right, he could probably get into any school he wanted.
Ray was just as capable—if not more so—but he never talked about his plans. Norman knew Ray wanted to get into a good university, but whether that meant staying in their city or going somewhere else… Ray never said.
And Emma?
Emma was the wild card.
She was smart—when she actually tried—but she was more interested in sports than academics. Norman knew she’d be fine no matter what she chose, but what would she choose? Would she go to a university close to home? Would she chase her dreams somewhere else?
Would they all end up going their separate ways?
Norman hated thinking about it.
For now, they were here. Together. And as long as that was still true, he could push those thoughts aside.
For now.
---
Norman didn’t fall in love all at once.
It wasn’t a sudden, dramatic revelation. There was no single moment where his heart skipped a beat and he thought, Oh no, I’m in love.
No, it happened gradually. Slowly. Sneakily.
So sneakily that Norman didn’t even realize it was happening.
---
It started with Emma.
Which, in hindsight, made sense.
Emma was the kind of person who made you feel like you were standing in the sun—bright, warm, impossible to ignore. She radiated energy wherever she went, and Norman had spent so many years orbiting around her that he never stopped to consider just how much of his world revolved around her presence.
She was always there. Always had been there.
So when had he started looking at her differently?
Maybe it was the way her eyes lit up when she talked about something she loved. Maybe it was the way her laugh was always so loud, so free, so Emma that it made his chest feel light. Maybe it was the way she grabbed his hand without hesitation, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Norman didn’t know.
All he knew was that, at some point, something shifted.
He started noticing things he hadn’t noticed before—how the sunlight made her hair glow like fire, how she scrunched her nose when she was thinking, how her lips curled into a tiny pout when she was focused.
And for some reason, those little things made his heart stutter.
It was weird.
Norman had never had a crush before. He had read about them, seen them happen to other people, but he had never personally experienced one. So whatever this was, he didn’t recognize it for what it was.
It’s just admiration, he told himself. Emma is incredible. Of course I notice things about her. It’s normal.
And that was that.
At least, until he started noticing Ray too.
---
Ray was different.
Where Emma was a wildfire, Ray was a steady ember—calm, unwavering, something you could always rely on even when everything else felt uncertain. He wasn’t the type to go out of his way to be affectionate, but he had his own way of showing he cared—subtle, quiet, easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention.
Norman had always paid attention.
But lately, he was noticing more.
The way Ray’s voice softened ever so slightly when he talked to them. The way he always adjusted Emma’s scarf in the winter, even when she insisted she was fine. The way he always saved the last piece of food for Norman, even though he never said anything about it.
It was stupid, but those tiny things made Norman feel… something.
And that something was confusing.
Because it wasn’t just admiration.
It wasn’t just friendship.
It was a warmth in his chest that shouldn’t have been there. A quiet, growing awareness that sent his thoughts spiraling in ways he didn’t understand.
It’s nothing, he told himself. I just care about them. That’s normal.
But if that were true, then why did his heart skip a beat when Ray absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind his ear during class?
Why did his stomach flip whenever Emma leaned in too close, eyes sparkling as she grinned at him?
Why was he starting to feel like this—whatever this was—was something he shouldn’t be feeling?
Norman didn’t know.
And he didn’t want to think about it.
---
Norman was a logical person.
He prided himself on his intelligence, on his ability to analyze a situation and come to the most rational conclusion. He was the kind of person who thought ahead, who planned everything down to the smallest detail, who never let his emotions get the best of him.
So this? This was ridiculous.
He wasn’t in love with Emma. He wasn’t in love with Ray.
That was absurd. Impossible. Wrong.
Sure, his heart did that weird little thing whenever Emma grabbed his hand. And yes, maybe he found himself staring at Ray a little too long sometimes. And fine, maybe, just maybe, he thought about them more often than he should.
But that didn’t mean anything.
It was just habit.
They had been friends since childhood. Of course he cared about them. Of course he paid attention to them. Of course they made him feel comfortable and safe and—
Norman cut that thought off immediately.
He was overthinking. That’s all it was.
---
“Norman?”
He blinked. Emma was waving a hand in front of his face, looking mildly concerned.
“You okay?” she asked. “You spaced out.”
Norman forced a smile. “Yeah. Just thinking.”
Emma hummed, leaning her chin on her hand. “You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”
“What, thinking?”
She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean. You seem… distracted.”
Norman opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, Ray spoke up.
“She’s right,” he said flatly, flipping a page in his book. “You’ve been weird.”
Norman stiffened. “I have not.”
Ray gave him a deadpan stare. “You almost poured coffee into your cereal this morning.”
Norman faltered. “…That was an accident.”
Emma snorted. “Was it?”
Norman shot her a look. “I swear it was.”
Emma just grinned, but Ray continued to eye him suspiciously.
Norman pretended not to notice.
He refused to acknowledge the possibility that he had been acting strange. Because that would mean acknowledging the reason he had been acting strange. And that was not an option.
No, he would not entertain this nonsense.
This wasn’t love. It wasn’t.
It was just—just—something else.
Something logical. Something reasonable.
He just had to figure out what it was.
---
That night, Norman spent an hour lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to come up with an explanation.
Maybe he was just too used to being around Emma and Ray. Maybe he was mistaking his emotions for something they weren’t.
Or maybe—and this was the most likely explanation—he was simply stressed.
Yes. That made sense.
Stress could do weird things to a person. It could make them act irrationally. It could make them overthink. It could make them misinterpret perfectly normal feelings as something they weren’t.
Norman latched onto that theory like a lifeline.
That’s all this is, he told himself. I’m just stressed. I need to focus on school. This will pass.
It had to.
Because the alternative?
The alternative was unthinkable.
---
Denial could only last so long.
No matter how much Norman tried to rationalize it—no matter how many excuses he made, how many times he convinced himself it was just stress, just habit, just friendship—it didn’t change the truth.
And the truth was this:
He was in love with Emma.
He was in love with Ray.
He was in love with both of them.
And that realization hit him like a goddamn truck.
them by
It started small. A slip of the mind.
One evening, he was sitting at his desk, attempting to focus on his homework. He had his notebook open, pen in hand, ready to solve an equation, when his mind wandered.
Emma is really cute when she concentrates.
It was a fleeting thought. Casual. Unimportant.
Until Norman froze.
His pen slipped from his fingers, rolling onto the desk with a soft clack.
Cute.
He had just called Emma cute.
He blinked.
And then, like a dam breaking, the thoughts poured in.
Ray’s hands are nice.
Emma’s laugh makes me happy.
Ray’s voice is really—
Norman shoved his chair back so fast it scraped against the floor.
No. No, no, no, no.
His heart was pounding. His face felt hot. His entire body was screaming WRONG, WRONG, WRONG, but his mind refused to stop replaying every moment, every touch, every lingering glance he had ever shared with them.
And now, instead of brushing those feelings off like before, he understood.
He knew why he always noticed Emma’s smile.
He knew why Ray’s quiet presence made him feel safe.
He knew why he felt like an idiot every time Emma grabbed his hand or Ray looked at him for a second too long.
Because he wasn’t just their friend.
Because this wasn’t just admiration.
Because he loved them.
---
Norman clutched his head, pacing the room in a frantic circle.
This was bad. This was so bad.
He was supposed to be the logical one, the rational one, the calm one. But here he was, having a full-blown meltdown in his bedroom because he had somehow managed to fall in love with both of his best friends.
How did this even happen?!
One person? Sure. That would have been bad, but manageable.
But two? TWO?!
This wasn’t some stupid romance novel where love triangles worked themselves out neatly in the end. This was real life.
And in real life, feelings like these ruined everything.
---
His phone buzzed.
Norman nearly jumped out of his skin.
He grabbed it with shaking hands and glanced at the screen. A text. From Emma.
Emma: Movie night at my place tomorrow! You in?
Norman stared at it for a solid ten seconds before dropping his phone onto the bed and burying his face in his hands.
He was doomed.
Completely, utterly doomed.
---
Norman had never dreaded a movie night before.
It was something the three of them had done since childhood—an easy, familiar tradition. They would pile onto Emma’s couch, argue over movie choices, and steal each other’s snacks like the absolute menaces they were.
It was supposed to be fun.
But now?
Now it was a goddamn nightmare.
Because Norman had spent the past twenty-four hours spiraling over the horrifying realization that he was in love with both of his best friends, and now he had to sit between them and act normal.
He was going to die.
---
“Norman, get in here!” Emma called from the kitchen.
He took a deep breath, plastered on a smile, and walked in like he wasn’t completely losing his mind.
Emma was standing at the counter, arms full of snacks, while Ray leaned against the fridge, sipping from a can of soda.
The sight of them together should not have made Norman’s chest feel tight.
This was fine. He was fine. Everything was fine.
It was something the three of them had done
“Finally,” Emma grinned, nudging a bag of popcorn toward him. “Took you long enough.”
Norman took the bag automatically. “I was on time.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she waved him off. “Ray, tell him he was late.”
Ray didn’t even look up. “You were late.”
Norman rolled his eyes. “You got here five minutes before me.”
Ray shrugged. “Still earlier.”
Norman sighed, but before he could argue, Emma grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the living room.
“Come on, let’s start the movie!” she said, already flopping onto the couch.
Norman barely managed to sit down before she threw a blanket over both of them.
And then—before he could process it—Ray sat down on his other side, close enough that their shoulders brushed.
Norman felt his soul leave his body.
---
This was torture.
Emma was practically curled up against him, stealing his popcorn without shame, while Ray sat beside him, warm and steady and way too calm for Norman’s current state of mind.
He was trapped.
His heart was racing, but he couldn’t let it show.
Because this was normal.
This was how it had always been.
They had sat like this a hundred times before, with Emma draped over both of them and Ray silently tolerating it.
It was normal.
But it didn’t feel normal anymore.
It felt like his entire body was hyper-aware of every single point of contact—Emma’s arm against his, Ray’s knee barely brushing his own, the way Emma would lean closer every time she laughed.
Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about it.
“Hey, you good?”
Norman snapped out of his thoughts to find Ray looking at him, brow slightly furrowed.
Norman forced himself to breathe. “Yeah. Why?”
Ray narrowed his eyes. “You’re tense.”
Tense? Of course he was tense! He was having a full-blown crisis!
But he couldn’t say that, so he just shrugged. “Just tired.”
Ray didn’t look convinced, but before he could say anything else, Emma suddenly flopped against Norman’s shoulder with a content sigh.
“Comfy,” she mumbled.
Norman nearly choked on air.
Ray rolled his eyes. “You have a whole couch.”
“Yeah, but this is better,” Emma whined, wiggling to get comfortable.
Ray sighed. “You’re ridiculous.”
Norman said nothing, because he was too busy trying to remember how to function.
This was fine. He was fine.
He just had to survive the rest of the movie without embarrassing himself.
That was doable, right?
…Right?
---
Norman made it through movie night. Barely.
By some miracle, he survived Emma practically using him as a pillow and Ray’s occasional sharp glances whenever he tensed up. He even managed to participate in their usual banter without letting his voice shake too much.
But the moment he stepped into his own house, closed his bedroom door, and collapsed onto his bed—
His carefully constructed composure shattered.
He groaned into his pillow, kicking his legs like a child throwing a tantrum. This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. He had spent years priding himself on being logical, composed, and unshakable. And now?
One realization—one stupid realization—and he was falling apart.
Norman rolled onto his back, staring at the ceiling, heart still pounding from absolutely nothing.
No. Not nothing.
Emma and Ray.
Them.
His best friends. His childhood best friends.
The people who had been with him through everything, who had laughed with him, fought with him, grown up with him.
And now he was in love with them.
Both of them.
God, it sounded even worse in his head.
This was not supposed to happen.
---
Norman sat up abruptly, running a hand through his hair.
Okay. He needed to think.
Because panicking wasn’t going to fix this.
He needed a plan—an approach, a solution.
There had to be a way to stop feeling like this.
…Right?
His eyes drifted to his desk, where his notebook sat open. He grabbed it, flipping to a blank page, and wrote at the top:
"Reasons Why This Is a Bad Idea."
Underneath, he quickly scrawled a list:
1. They’re my best friends.
2. They don’t feel the same way.
3. This would ruin everything.
4. What if they hate me for this?
5. Two?! I fell for TWO people??
6. This is not normal.
Norman stared at the last line.
Not normal.
He swallowed hard, gripping the pen a little tighter.
This was the part that scared him the most.
If it had just been one of them—if he had only fallen for Emma or only fallen for Ray—it would have been easier to accept. It would have been a stupid, one-sided crush, something he could bury and move on from.
But both of them? At the same time?
That wasn’t supposed to happen.
And what if—what if something was wrong with him for feeling like this?
Norman closed his eyes, exhaling shakily.
He couldn’t tell them. Ever.
It wasn’t just about the risk of rejection. It was the fear of what would come after.
Would they look at him differently? Would they leave? Would their friendship—the one thing that had always been steady in his life—fall apart because of him?
The thought made his stomach twist.
No. He wouldn’t let that happen.
Which meant there was only one option.
---
He had to kill these feelings.
Shove them down, lock them up, erase them before they could get worse.
He could do that. He had to do that.
He was Norman, after all.
He had always been good at controlling himself.
Hadn’t he?
---
Norman was fine.
That’s what he told himself, at least.
After spending half the night pacing his room, he had come to a simple conclusion: This was nothing but a stupid crush. And crushes could be ignored.
All he had to do was pretend it didn’t exist. Act normal. Keep his distance. Stop thinking about—
“Norman, I said stop thinking so hard.”
Norman blinked. Emma was waving a hand in front of his face, her lips curved into a pout.
“You totally spaced out.” She leaned in closer, peering at him. “Are you sick?”
Norman jerked back so fast he almost knocked over his lunch tray. “Nope! I’m great. Completely fine.”
Emma narrowed her eyes.
Ray, sitting across from them, let out a snort. “That was convincing.”
Norman scowled at him. “I am fine.”
Ray hummed, resting his chin on his hand. “If you say so.”
Norman was going to die.
Or worse—slip up and say something stupid.
He shoved a piece of bread into his mouth and focused on chewing, pretending like he wasn’t currently trapped between the two people he was trying not to be in love with.
It was going to be a long lunch period.
---
Step One of “Stop Being In Love” was keeping his distance.
Unfortunately, that was proving to be impossible.
Because avoiding Emma and Ray was like trying to avoid breathing.
They were always there.
Emma would swing an arm around his shoulder in the hallways like it was second nature, grinning and laughing about whatever nonsense was on her mind.
Ray would lean against the lockers next to him between classes, making some dry comment about the day while Norman struggled not to notice the way his voice sounded when he was amused.
It wasn’t fair.
How was he supposed to ignore this when they kept making it so damn difficult?
And worse—when he actually liked it?
---
Step Two was not thinking about them too much.
That was also failing.
Because Norman’s brain refused to cooperate.
Every time Emma smiled at him, his heart ached.
Every time Ray glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, he had to fight the urge to look back.
Even when they weren’t around, his mind replayed everything—Emma’s laugh, Ray’s voice, the way it felt when they sat too close, when Emma grabbed his hand without thinking, when Ray casually bumped their shoulders together.
It was a constant battle.
And Norman was losing.
---
One day, he thought he had things under control.
He had been doing better. Keeping his feelings in check, pretending like nothing had changed.
Then Emma went and ruined it.
They had been studying in the library when she suddenly flopped onto the table with a groan.
“My brain is melting.”
Norman chuckled. “You say that every time we study.”
“Because it’s true!” She whined, stretching her arms over her head. “How do you guys make this look so easy?”
“Because we actually listen in class,” Ray muttered, flipping a page in his book.
Emma huffed. “Whatever. I need a break.”
And then, before Norman could react, she sat up, leaned over—
And pressed her forehead against his.
Norman froze.
His entire body locked up as Emma grinned at him, their faces way too close.
“Your head is nice and cool,” she mused.
Norman forgot how to breathe.
Emma’s forehead was literally touching his. Their noses were barely an inch apart.
And then—just to make things worse—Ray reached over and flicked her forehead, causing her to yelp and pull back.
Norman exhaled so sharply it might as well have been a gasp for air.
“What was that for?!” Emma scowled at Ray, rubbing her forehead.
“You were being weird.” Ray didn’t even look up from his book. “We’re in a library.”
Emma pouted but didn’t argue.
Meanwhile, Norman sat there, trying to recover from his internal meltdown.
His hands were trembling under the table.
His face was burning.
And for the first time, he realized something horrifying.
It wasn’t just that he couldn’t stop being in love with them.
It was that he didn’t want to.
And that was the scariest part of all.
---
Norman had spent weeks drowning in panic over his feelings for Emma and Ray.
Weeks of avoiding his thoughts, forcing himself to act normal, and convincing himself that nothing had changed—except everything had changed. He had spent so much time worrying about what this meant for his friendship, for his sanity, for his entire existence, that he hadn't even considered one thing.
What if someone else liked them?
And worse—what if they liked someone else back?
The realization hit him like a freight train one afternoon when he entered the school courtyard and spotted her.
Anna.
She was talking to Ray.
Correction: Flirting with Ray.
Norman hadn’t thought much of Anna before. She was a quiet girl from their class, nice enough, always polite when they spoke. But at that moment, he felt nothing but pure, unfiltered hatred.
It was an unfamiliar feeling.
Norman wasn’t the jealous type. He never had been.
So why, why, did the sight of Anna giggling at something Ray said make his stomach churn like he was about to be sick?
He told himself it was fine.
Ray didn’t even look that interested. He had his usual bored expression, hands shoved in his pockets, answering her in that dry, indifferent tone of his.
But then—then—Anna touched his arm, laughing a little too sweetly.
And Norman saw red.
For the first time in weeks, his panic about being in love with his best friends vanished.
Because all he could think was, That’s mine.
The thought was so sudden, so violent in its intensity, that Norman nearly staggered.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He clenched his fists, forcing himself to breathe.
This was ridiculous. He had no reason to feel this way. Ray wasn’t his. Emma wasn’t his. He had no claim over either of them.
So why did the idea of someone else having them feel like a knife to the gut?
Norman was still trying to gather his thoughts when Emma appeared beside him.
“Ohhh,” she whispered, grinning as she followed his gaze. “Anna’s talking to Ray.”
Norman swallowed, trying to sound normal. “Yeah. So?”
“So, I think she likes him.”
Norman’s stomach twisted.
Emma elbowed him. “I bet he doesn’t even notice.”
Norman almost scoffed. Of course Ray noticed. Ray noticed everything.
The real question was—did he care?
Norman kept his eyes on them, watching the way Ray tilted his head slightly, actually engaging in the conversation now.
It made his blood boil.
He didn’t even realize he was glaring until Emma raised an eyebrow at him.
“Why do you look so pissed?”
Norman forced a laugh. “What? I don’t.”
“You definitely do.” Emma squinted at him. “Wait—are you mad that Anna’s talking to Ray?”
Norman choked.
“No,” he said too quickly. “Why would I be mad?”
Emma hummed, unconvinced.
Norman turned away, trying to shake off the feeling.
It was just jealousy. A normal, totally rational reaction to seeing a close friend talking to someone else.
…Right?
But even as he tried to calm himself down, one thought haunted him.
What if Ray did like Anna?
And what if Emma found someone too?
Where would that leave him?
For weeks, Norman had been terrified of his own feelings.
But now, for the first time, he was terrified of losing them.
---
Norman had officially lost his mind.
It was bad enough that he was in love with both of his best friends.
It was bad enough that every moment with them made his heart ache, that every laugh, every touch, every glance felt like it was carving his soul apart piece by piece.
But now—now—he had to deal with jealousy too?
It started small. A subtle annoyance when someone called Emma “cute” in passing. A barely-there irritation when another classmate casually threw an arm around Ray.
But then it grew.
Because Anna—fucking Anna—kept talking to Ray.
And worse, Ray had started talking back.
Normally. Casually. Like it was nothing.
And that was the part that drove Norman insane.
Emma had always been bubbly, kind, open to everyone. If someone talked to her, Norman barely blinked because that was just Emma—she loved people, and people loved her.
But Ray?
Ray was supposed to be reserved.
Ray was supposed to be their best friend.
Ray was supposed to be his.
But now Ray was standing there, chatting with Anna in the hallway like it was the easiest thing in the world.
And Norman hated it.
He hated how easy it was for Ray to hold a conversation with her. Hated the way Anna tucked her hair behind her ear, looking up at Ray with a soft smile. Hated the way Ray didn’t even seem to care how this was making Norman feel.
By the time lunch rolled around, Norman was already on edge.
But then Anna showed up at their table.
And Norman snapped.
---
It happened so fast.
One moment, Anna was standing beside Ray, casually handing him something.
The next, Norman’s voice cut through the air like a blade.
"Why are you even here?"
Silence.
The table went dead quiet.
Anna blinked, clearly startled.
Ray, who had been reaching for whatever she was giving him, turned his head sharply toward Norman. His expression shifted—subtle, but Norman knew him well enough to see it.
A flicker of surprise.
Then, something sharper.
Anna let out a nervous laugh. "Uh, I was just—"
"You were just what?" Norman’s voice was ice. "We’re in the middle of lunch. Shouldn’t you be at your own table?"
Emma’s head snapped toward him. "Norman—"
"It’s fine," Ray cut in, his voice flat.
But it wasn’t fine.
Not for Norman.
Because Ray was looking at him now, and for the first time in years, there was a hint of annoyance in his expression.
And that was wrong.
Ray never looked at him like that.
Ray was supposed to be on his side.
Ray was supposed to—
"Seriously?" Ray asked, his voice calm but pointed.
Norman’s hands curled into fists under the table. His whole body was burning.
But he couldn’t back down.
Couldn’t sit there and pretend like this didn’t feel like a betrayal.
"Whatever," he muttered, looking away. "Forget it."
Anna shifted awkwardly. "Uh, I’ll just—"
"Yeah," Ray said. "You should."
Norman expected relief at those words.
Instead, all he felt was guilt.
Because when Ray turned back to face him, his usual blank stare was replaced with something unreadable.
And Norman realized—too late—that he had messed up.
---
Norman wasn’t sure what was worse—the way Ray had looked at him after he snapped, or the fact that Emma wouldn’t stop staring.
Lunch had ended awkwardly, Anna had left without another word, and now it was just the three of them walking to class. Emma had fallen into step beside him, watching him like she was waiting for something.
Ray, on the other hand, was a step ahead.
Silent.
Tense.
And Norman hated it.
Ray was always quiet, sure—but this was different.
This wasn’t the usual, detached silence that came with being Ray’s best friend. This wasn’t the kind of quiet where Norman could look at him and know that they were still on the same page.
This was something else.
This was Ray shutting him out.
And Norman had no one to blame but himself.
It was stupid. He had been so caught up in his emotions, in his ridiculous, irrational jealousy, that he had lashed out without thinking. And now, the damage was done.
The weight of it sat heavy in his chest.
Emma nudged him. “You okay?”
Norman forced a smile. “Yeah.”
She didn’t buy it.
“You were kind of a jerk back there.”
Norman knew.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “I was.”
Emma kept looking between him and Ray, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Are you gonna apologize?”
That was the problem.
Norman wasn’t sure how.
Because what was he supposed to say?
Sorry, I yelled at Anna because I can’t stand the thought of Ray talking to someone else? Sorry, I got jealous because I’ve been losing my mind over the fact that I love both of you? Sorry, I snapped because I feel like everything is changing and I don’t know how to stop it?
There was no way to explain it. No way to fix it.
So Norman did what he always did.
He pretended it wasn’t a problem.
---
But Ray wasn’t letting it go.
By the time school ended, Norman was exhausted—mentally, emotionally, everything.
He was ready to go home, bury himself under a pile of blankets, and pretend he hadn’t just ruined his entire day with his own idiocy.
But as soon as Emma waved them goodbye and walked in the other direction, Ray stopped in his tracks.
Norman barely had time to react before Ray turned to him, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
“Alright,” Ray said. “Spill.”
Norman froze. “What?”
“You heard me.” Ray tilted his head. “What the hell was that at lunch?”
Norman swallowed. “Nothing.”
Ray’s stare pierced through him.
“Norman.” His voice was lower now, firmer. “Don’t bullshit me.”
Norman clenched his jaw.
He knew Ray wouldn’t let this go.
Ray never let things go.
Especially not when it came to him.
But Norman couldn’t do this. He couldn’t.
So he forced a smirk, folding his arms. “I didn’t realize you cared so much.”
Ray didn’t react.
Didn’t roll his eyes, didn’t scoff, didn’t do anything.
He just stared.
And for the first time in a long time—Norman felt it.
The weight of Ray’s attention.
The way he saw everything.
Norman’s fingers twitched at his sides. He needed to end this. Needed to get out of here.
So he did the only thing he could.
He laughed. “Seriously, it’s nothing.”
Ray didn’t blink. “Then why are you running away?”
Norman’s heart stopped.
Because Ray was right.
He was running away.
He had been running since the moment he realized he loved them.
And now, Ray was catching up.
Norman swallowed hard. “I’m not.”
Ray just kept watching him. Waiting.
But Norman couldn’t do this. Not right now. Not when his head was still spinning from everything he had felt today.
So he did the only thing he knew how to do.
He lied.
“I was just in a bad mood,” Norman said, voice smooth, practiced. “That’s all.”
Ray didn’t look convinced.
But he didn’t push, either.
After a long, tense moment, Ray exhaled, rubbing his temples. “Whatever.”
And that should have been a relief.
But as Ray turned away and walked off, something in Norman’s chest ached.
Because for the first time in their entire friendship—
Ray didn’t wait for him.
And Norman hated how much that hurt.
---
Norman was losing his mind.
He thought he had already hit rock bottom—thought that accepting his feelings was the worst thing that could happen.
But this?
This was worse.
Because Ray was pulling away.
Norman had felt it all day. The shift. The distance. It wasn’t obvious—Ray still sat next to him in class, still answered when Norman spoke, still acted normal enough.
But it wasn’t the same.
Ray wasn’t looking at him the same way.
And Norman hated it.
It had only been a day since he snapped at Anna, but it felt like weeks. Every little interaction with Ray felt off. Forced. Like Ray was being careful now, like he had finally noticed that something was wrong with Norman and was trying to figure it out.
That was the problem with Ray.
He was too smart.
Too observant.
And Norman could not let him find out the truth.
Because if Ray knew—if he even suspected—Norman was done for.
---
By the time lunch rolled around, Norman was barely holding it together.
He had managed to smile through most of the day, but inside, he was a mess.
Then Ray did something small, something normal, but it nearly knocked the air out of Norman’s lungs.
He sat down next to Emma.
And not just next to her—closer than usual.
Emma, of course, didn’t think anything of it. She was chatting about something random, waving her hands around as she spoke. But Ray—Ray just sat there, arms crossed, half-listening.
And for the first time ever, Norman wasn’t sitting between them.
That was his spot.
It had always been his spot.
Norman’s hands clenched under the table.
He knew he was being ridiculous. Knew he was being petty. But it felt like something was slipping through his fingers, something he couldn’t stop.
Emma laughed at something Ray muttered under his breath, leaning into his shoulder.
Norman looked away.
He needed to get out of here.
---
He barely made it to the bathroom before the panic hit.
His hands gripped the sink, knuckles white. He was breathing too fast, thoughts racing.
Why is this happening?
Why does it feel like I’m losing them?
It was stupid. Irrational. Nothing had actually changed, but it felt like it had.
It was like some invisible line had been crossed—like the moment he admitted his feelings, the universe decided to punish him for it.
Because now, Emma and Ray felt further away than ever.
Norman exhaled shakily, staring at his reflection.
He needed to calm down.
He needed to stop thinking about this.
He needed to—
The bathroom door creaked open.
Norman tensed.
And then—
“Skipping class now?”
His stomach dropped.
He turned.
Ray was standing in the doorway, arms crossed, staring right at him.
Norman forced a smirk. “Caught me.”
Ray didn’t laugh.
Didn’t even react.
He just stepped inside, letting the door close behind him.
Norman swallowed. Shit.
---
Norman knew Ray was going to corner him eventually. He just didn’t expect it to be now.
And he definitely didn’t expect it to happen in an empty bathroom with nowhere to run.
Ray leaned against the door, arms crossed, staring at Norman like he was trying to see through him.
Norman kept his expression neutral. “Didn’t take you for a hall monitor.”
Ray didn’t even blink. “Didn’t take you for a runner.”
Norman’s smirk wavered.
Ray tilted his head. “What’s going on with you?”
Norman huffed a laugh. “What, I can’t take a break without an interrogation?”
Ray didn’t answer.
Norman could feel his pulse in his throat. This wasn’t good. Ray was watching him again, and Norman knew that if he wasn’t careful, Ray would see too much.
So he did what he always did.
He played it off.
He pushed off the sink and plastered on his best, easy-going smile. “Relax, Ray. I’m fine.”
Ray’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t look fine.”
Norman sighed dramatically. “Maybe I just didn’t get enough sleep.”
“Bullshit.”
Norman barely managed to keep his expression steady.
Of course Ray wasn’t buying it.
Because of course he wasn’t.
Ray wasn’t like Emma—Emma, who would see someone struggling and immediately want to believe them when they said they were okay.
Ray was different.
Ray didn’t believe things at face value.
Ray saw through people.
And right now, he was looking at Norman like he was peeling him apart.
Norman exhaled through his nose. “Seriously, Ray. I’m fine.”
Ray’s jaw clenched.
For a second, it almost looked like he was going to drop it.
But then—
“Is this about what happened at lunch?”
Norman froze.
Ray caught it.
His expression sharpened. “So it is.”
Norman’s heartbeat spiked.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“No,” Norman said quickly, too quickly. “It’s not.”
Ray didn’t look convinced.
“Norman,” he said, tone flat. “You snapped at Anna for no reason. Then you spent the whole day acting weird. And now you’re hiding in a bathroom.”
Norman forced a laugh. “I’m not hiding.”
Ray raised an eyebrow. “So if I open the door right now, you’ll come back to class?”
Norman opened his mouth.
And then immediately shut it.
Because he wouldn’t go back.
He couldn’t.
Not with the way he was feeling.
Ray knew.
His expression shifted slightly, something unreadable flickering across his face.
And Norman felt cornered.
He needed to end this conversation.
He swallowed down the lump in his throat and forced another smirk. “You’re thinking too much, Ray.”
Ray didn’t move. Didn’t say anything.
Norman could feel the tension stretching between them, suffocating.
But then—
Ray exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot.”
Norman blinked.
Before he could respond, Ray turned on his heel and pulled open the door. “Do whatever you want.”
Then he was gone.
And Norman—
Norman should have felt relieved.
But he didn’t.
Because as the door swung shut behind Ray, Norman realized something.
For the first time in years, Ray was done trying to figure him out.
And somehow—
That made Norman feel even worse.
---
Norman didn’t go back to class.
He tried to. He really did. But the second he stepped out of the bathroom, his feet refused to move in the direction of the classroom.
So instead, he ended up outside.
The courtyard was empty—lunch had ended a while ago, and everyone was back in their respective classes. Which was perfect, because Norman needed to be alone.
He sat on one of the benches, head in his hands, and breathed.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He had messed up. Again.
Not just with Anna. Not just with lunch. But with Ray.
Because Ray had stopped pushing.
Ray had stopped pushing.
And that scared Norman more than anything else.
Because Ray only did that when he gave up.
And the thought of Ray giving up on him—on figuring him out, on caring—made something twist deep inside Norman’s chest.
It felt like the start of something terrible.
---
He didn’t see Ray or Emma for the rest of the day.
Part of him wanted to—wanted to smooth things over, act normal, pretend nothing was wrong.
But another part of him didn’t know how to anymore.
And the worst part?
Ray wasn’t even avoiding him.
No, that would’ve been easier. If Ray had been avoiding him, Norman would at least know how to fix it.
But Ray wasn’t.
Ray was acting normal.
Like nothing happened.
Like he didn’t care anymore.
And that—that—was the worst thing of all.
Because Ray was never like that with Norman.
Ray always noticed. Ray always called him out.
Ray always pushed.
But now?
Now Ray was just… going along with it.
And Norman didn’t know what to do with that.
---
By the time the final bell rang, Norman was spiraling.
Emma and Ray were waiting for him outside the school, like always. Emma was talking animatedly about something, hands waving in the air. Ray was listening with his usual unimpressed expression, hands in his pockets.
And Norman—
Norman hesitated.
For the first time in years, he hesitated before walking toward them.
But he had to act normal. He had to.
So he forced himself forward, slipping back into his usual smile. “Did I miss something?”
Emma beamed at him. “Only the most ridiculous thing ever! You won’t believe what happened in math today—”
Norman nodded along, pretending to listen. But his focus was elsewhere.
Because Ray was looking at him.
Not through him. Not like he was trying to figure him out.
Just—looking.
Like Norman was anyone else.
And that—
That was when Norman realized.
He was losing Ray.
And it was his own damn fault.
---
Norman had never considered himself an insecure person.
He was logical. Rational. Good at figuring things out.
But now?
Now he didn’t know anything.
Because for the first time in years, Ray wasn’t looking at him the same way.
Ray wasn’t watching him with sharp, narrowed eyes, picking apart every lie.
Ray wasn’t trying to see through him.
Ray wasn’t pushing.
And Norman couldn’t stand it.
It felt wrong.
It felt worse than Ray being angry at him.
Because if Ray was angry, Norman could fix it.
But this?
This was Ray not caring.
Or at least—acting like he didn’t.
And Norman—
Norman couldn’t handle that.
---
It got worse the next day.
Ray still talked to him. Still hung out with him and Emma like always.
But it was different.
There was no more quiet scrutiny. No more knowing glances. No more subtle digs, trying to get Norman to slip up.
Ray was just… going along with it.
Like he’d accepted Norman’s lies.
Like he wasn’t interested in figuring them out anymore.
And Norman—
Norman had never felt this unstable before.
Because for years, he had counted on Ray to see through him.
To catch the cracks before they shattered.
To call him out when things didn’t add up.
Because if Ray noticed, then at least that meant Norman was still real to him.
But now?
Now Norman felt like he was slipping.
Like he was being erased.
And it was his own fault.
---
Norman was losing it.
It had only been two days.
Two days of Ray acting like everything was normal. Two days of no more sharp looks, no more suspicion, no more pushing.
Two days of Ray treating Norman like he was anyone else.
And Norman hated it.
He told himself he didn’t. Told himself this was good. This was what he wanted, right?
But the more he tried to convince himself, the worse the feeling in his chest got.
Because it wasn’t just Ray acting normal. It was Ray talking to people—more than usual.
To Anna. To Gilda. To random classmates who had never been in his orbit before.
And worst of all—he wasn’t just tolerating it.
He was engaging.
And Norman—Norman couldn’t stand it.
Because that wasn’t how things were supposed to be.
Ray was theirs.
Ray was his.
And Norman didn’t even realize how hard he was gripping his pen until it snapped in his hand.
---
“Norman?”
Emma’s voice yanked him out of his thoughts.
He looked up to see her blinking at him, head tilted. “You okay? You’ve been weird lately.”
Norman forced a smile. “I’m fine.”
Emma frowned. “Are you sure? You’ve been zoning out a lot.”
“I said I’m fine.”
Emma’s eyes widened slightly at the sharpness in his tone.
Norman immediately regretted it.
But before he could say anything, Ray—who had been quiet until now—finally spoke.
“You’re lying.”
Norman froze.
Because for the first time in two days, Ray wasn’t acting indifferent.
He was watching him again.
Not as intensely as before, but watching nonetheless.
Norman’s heartbeat spiked.
And before he could stop himself, the words slipped out.
“Oh, so now you care?”
Silence.
Emma’s eyes darted between them, confused.
Ray, however, barely reacted. His expression remained unreadable, his voice flat.
“I always cared.”
Norman’s fingers curled into fists.
“Could’ve fooled me.”
He didn’t even know why he said it. Didn’t know what he was trying to do.
All he knew was that something inside him was cracking.
Ray exhaled through his nose. “If this is about Anna—”
“It’s not about Anna.”
The words came out too fast. Too forceful.
Ray’s gaze sharpened.
And Norman—Norman couldn’t do this right now.
His chair scraped against the floor as he abruptly stood up. “Forget it.”
Then he grabbed his bag and left.
Not looking back.
Not slowing down.
Because if he did—
He was afraid he’d break completely.
---
Norman didn’t go home.
He couldn’t.
Not when his thoughts were this loud.
Instead, he walked.
Through the streets. Past familiar buildings. Past people who barely registered in his mind.
He kept walking—kept moving—because the second he stopped, he would have to think.
And right now, thinking was the last thing he wanted to do.
But it didn’t matter.
Because the thoughts still came.
Still sank their claws into him and refused to let go.
Because today—finally—Norman couldn’t deny it anymore.
Couldn’t keep running from the truth that had been chasing him for months.
He was jealous.
He was jealous.
Of Anna.
Of every single person who dared to look at Ray and Emma like they had a chance.
Of Ray himself for being able to talk to someone else so easily.
And the worst part?
It wasn’t just Ray.
It was Emma too.
Because this wasn’t just possessiveness.
Wasn’t just Norman being overprotective.
No—this was something else entirely.
And it terrified him.
Because for the first time, Norman had to admit the truth.
The real truth.
He was in love with them.
With both of them.
---
Norman sat on a bench, hands in his hair, breathing unsteady.
He felt like he was falling.
Like the world had just tipped off its axis and he had no way to catch himself.
Because this wasn’t supposed to happen.
He was Norman. He was logical. He was the one who planned things—who thought ahead, who always knew what to do.
But this?
This was out of his control.
This was Emma and Ray.
This was his best friends.
This was his entire world crumbling in real-time.
Because how could he love them like this?
How could he look at them and feel his heartbeat stutter?
How could he want things he had no right to want?
He wasn’t supposed to.
He wasn’t supposed to.
And yet—
And yet.
The thought of losing them—of either of them slipping away—made it hard to breathe.
Norman squeezed his eyes shut, exhaling shakily.
He was in trouble.
He was in so much trouble.
And for the first time in his life—
He had no idea what to do.
---
Norman had always been good at problem-solving.
He was logical. Rational. Calculated.
So if something was broken, he fixed it.
If something was a threat, he eliminated it.
And this—this was just another problem to solve.
Because now he knew why he was panicking.
It wasn’t the feelings themselves.
It was fighting them.
The more he pushed them away, the worse it got. The more he tried to pretend he didn’t want them, the more obvious it became.
So why not stop pretending?
Why not—win?
Because if he kept acting like this, he’d lose them anyway.
And Norman hated losing.
So—
Why not make them fall in love with him?
---
The next day, Norman woke up calm.
For the first time in weeks, he didn’t feel like he was on the edge of spiraling.
Because he had a plan now.
And Norman thrived with a plan.
So instead of avoiding Ray and Emma, he leaned in.
Instead of panicking when someone talked to them, he watched.
And when some random classmate started chatting with Ray—
Norman smiled.
But his eyes?
His eyes were ice-cold.
It worked almost immediately.
The guy stammered halfway through his sentence and quickly backed off.
Norman kept smiling.
Ray didn’t notice.
But Norman did.
And oh—
This was going to be fun.
---
By lunchtime, he’d done it three more times.
One girl asked Emma for help with an assignment? Norman appeared at her side, oh-so-friendly, oh-so-charming—until she got the hint.
Another person tried to strike up a conversation with Ray? Norman subtly leaned in, a little too close, and suddenly, they had somewhere else to be.
And the best part?
Ray and Emma hadn’t caught on yet.
Because Norman was good at this.
He wasn’t being obvious.
Just enough pressure. Just enough presence. Just enough calculated threat behind a polite smile.
And just like that—
Norman had control again.
For the first time in weeks, he wasn’t spiraling.
For the first time in weeks, he wasn’t losing them.
No—this time, he was winning.
And Norman always won.
---
Norman was in control.
Everything was fine.
He had stopped panicking. He had stopped doubting himself. And most importantly—he had stopped running from the truth.
And now?
Now, he was doing what he did best.
Winning.
Because the more time he spent with Ray and Emma, the more he inched his way into their space, the more he made himself irreplaceable—the more things felt right again.
No more spiraling. No more fear. No more losing them.
And if anyone so much as thought about getting between them?
Well.
Norman would handle it.
---
At first, Emma didn’t notice.
She was too busy being Emma—too busy bouncing from one conversation to the next, laughing and dragging Norman and Ray along with her.
She had no idea that every time someone tried to keep her attention for too long, Norman would intervene.
A sudden arm around her shoulders. A quick-witted joke to steal the conversation. A perfectly-timed interruption.
Always subtle.
Always undeniable.
And Emma, bless her oblivious heart, never questioned it.
Ray, on the other hand—
Ray wasn’t stupid.
And Norman knew it was only a matter of time before he started noticing the pattern.
Which meant Norman had to act first.
---
It started with small things.
Little shifts that were easy to ignore.
Norman started walking closer to them.
Sat between them more often.
Talked in softer tones—lowering his voice just enough that they had to lean in.
Little, little things.
Until suddenly, he was everywhere.
The first person Emma turned to when she was excited. The first person Ray sighed at when he was annoyed.
And Norman—Norman soaked it all in.
It was working.
They weren’t looking at anyone else anymore.
They weren’t being stolen away.
And that meant Norman was winning.
Until—
“Okay, what the hell is going on with you?”
Norman barely had time to blink before Ray grabbed his sleeve and dragged him away from the lunch table.
---
Norman barely had time to react before Ray shoved him into the nearest empty classroom.
The door clicked shut behind them.
Then—
Silence.
Norman kept his face neutral. “Ray—”
“What the hell are you doing?” Ray cut him off, arms crossed, sharp eyes locked onto him.
Norman tilted his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Ray scoffed. “Bullshit.”
Norman let out a small, amused hum. “You’ll have to be more specific.”
Ray exhaled through his nose, his glare darkening.
“You’ve been weird,” he said flatly. “Hovering. Cutting in. Making sure no one else talks to us for more than five minutes.”
Norman’s smile didn’t falter. “That’s quite the accusation.”
Ray narrowed his eyes.
Norman knew that look.
It was the look Ray gave when he was two seconds away from figuring something out.
And for the first time in weeks—Norman felt something dangerous stir in his chest.
A flicker of uncertainty.
A flash of panic.
So he did what he did best.
He controlled the conversation.
Norman sighed, shaking his head. “Ray, do you really think I’d do something that childish?”
Ray’s eyes didn’t waver.
Norman let out a breathy chuckle. “Honestly, you’re overthinking it. I’ve just been spending time with you guys—like I always do.”
Ray didn’t respond.
Norman met his gaze, voice light, teasing. “Besides, why do you care so much? It almost sounds like you’re jealous.”
Ray flinched.
Got you.
Norman pressed in. “I mean, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were upset that I was giving Emma attention.” He tilted his head, smile growing. “Or… is it because I’ve been spending more time with you?”
Ray’s jaw tensed.
Norman almost smirked.
Because this—this—was something he could use.
If Ray was thrown off enough, he wouldn’t ask more questions. Wouldn’t dig deeper. Wouldn’t figure out what was really going on.
But then—
Ray let out a slow breath, his expression shifting into something unreadable.
Then he stepped forward.
Just close enough that Norman could see the sharp edge in his gaze.
“Cut the crap, Norman,” Ray muttered. “I know you.”
Norman’s smile froze.
Ray’s voice lowered.
“You’re hiding something.”
Norman felt his heartbeat skip.
For the first time, he couldn’t read what Ray was thinking.
That was dangerous
Norman’s mind raced.
Ray wasn’t letting this go.
That was a problem.
Because normally, Norman could maneuver out of any situation. He knew how to twist words, how to turn attention away from himself, how to play the game until everyone saw what he wanted them to see.
But now—
Now, Ray was watching him like a threat.
And Norman hated being backed into a corner.
So he did what he had to do.
He laughed.
“Ray, you’re being paranoid.”
Ray didn’t even blink. “You’re deflecting.”
Norman exhaled sharply. “You are jealous, aren’t you?” He tilted his head, smile perfectly in place. “You don’t like it when I’m too close to Emma, and you don’t like it when I’m too close to you. So what is it, Ray? Which one of us do you want all to yourself?”
Ray’s jaw tensed.
Got him.
Norman knew that if he pushed hard enough, Ray would get flustered and drop this.
He just had to keep pressing.
Norman took a step closer, voice softer. “You can tell me, you know.”
Ray exhaled slowly. His expression was blank, but Norman could see the tension behind his eyes.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
And then—
Ray sighed.
“Fine.”
Norman blinked.
Wait.
“I am jealous,” Ray said bluntly.
Norman’s brain short-circuited.
What.
“I don’t know why you’ve been acting like this, and I don’t know what’s going on in that twisted head of yours,” Ray continued. “But if you want an answer—then yeah.” He looked directly at Norman. “I don’t like it when people take you and Emma away from me.”
Norman forgot how to breathe.
Ray never said things like this.
Ray never admitted when he cared. Ray never voiced his feelings this openly.
Norman had been prepared for Ray to deflect, to change the subject, to fall for the bait.
But instead—
Ray called his bluff.
Norman’s chest tightened.
Because this—this was bad.
Because if Ray was honest—
Then Norman would have to be honest too.
And Norman wasn’t ready for that.
So he did the only thing he could do.
He smiled.
He chuckled, shaking his head. “Wow, Ray. That almost sounded like an emotional confession.”
Ray rolled his eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”
Norman let out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Good. Because that was painful to hear.”
Ray scoffed.
And just like that—
The conversation shifted.
Norman steered them away from dangerous territory, away from things he wasn’t ready to admit.
But even as they left the classroom, even as Norman played along like nothing had happened—
He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had just lost ground.
Because Ray had caught him slipping.
And Norman never slipped.
---
Norman should have felt victorious.
He had escaped—barely.
He had steered Ray away from the truth, buried the conversation before it could become dangerous.
And yet—
His hands were shaking.
Norman flexed his fingers subtly as he walked beside Ray, masking the tension in his body with an easy smile.
Ray had admitted it.
He had admitted that he got jealous. That he didn’t like people taking them away from him.
That was proof, wasn’t it?
Proof that Norman wasn’t alone in this.
Proof that the panic clawing at his throat, the possessiveness curling around his ribs, the suffocating fear of losing them—
It wasn’t just his problem.
Ray felt it too.
And that meant Norman had the advantage.
So why did he feel like he was losing?
---
He tested it.
Pushed just a little harder.
The next day, when Emma rushed to greet them at school, Norman made sure to pull her in first.
Wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Let his fingers brush against her wrist for a second too long.
Emma blinked at him, surprised, but didn’t question it.
And Norman?
Norman watched Ray.
He saw the way Ray’s eyes flickered toward them. Saw the way his fingers curled subtly into his sleeves.
Saw the proof of everything Ray had admitted.
And it wasn’t enough.
So Norman kept going.
He made sure to sit closer. Let his fingers graze Ray’s when they passed each other a book in class.
Leaned in when Emma laughed, watching her eyes light up before tilting his head just enough to see Ray’s reaction.
And he saw it.
The subtle shifts. The tiny, almost imperceptible signs of discomfort.
Ray’s patience fraying at the edges.
Norman was winning.
And yet—
And yet—
Somehow, he was still panicking.
---
“Norman.”
Ray’s voice was low.
Norman turned, the perfect picture of casual innocence. “Hmm?”
Ray’s eyes pierced through him.
“You’re doing it again.”
Norman tilted his head, blinking. “Doing what?”
Ray exhaled sharply, his expression unreadable.
For a second, Norman thought he would push. That he would call Norman out like last time.
But instead—
Ray looked away.
Tension in his shoulders. Jaw clenched just enough to be noticeable.
Norman’s fingers twitched.
He had expected Ray to push back. To argue. To fight.
But instead—
Ray was holding back.
And that meant Norman had already won.
So why did it feel like he was standing on the edge of a cliff?
Why did it feel like if he took one more step—
Everything would shatter?
---
Winning wasn’t enough.
That was what Norman realized.
Because even when he pulled Emma close, even when he pushed Ray just far enough to see the tension in his jaw—
Even when he had proof that they felt something too—
It wasn’t enough.
Because proof wasn’t security. Proof wasn’t certainty.
And Norman needed certainty.
So he changed his strategy.
If making them jealous wasn’t enough—
Then he would make sure they needed him.
---
He started small.
Helping Emma with her homework—nothing unusual. She was always bad at math. But this time, Norman leaned in closer, let his voice soften just a bit more when he explained things.
Let her depend on him.
Then Ray.
Ray didn’t ask for help, but Norman knew how to make him accept it.
"Here," Norman said, slipping a fresh coffee onto Ray’s desk. "I noticed you were staying up late studying."
Ray blinked at him, surprised. "How—"
Norman smiled. "You think I don’t notice these things?"
Ray looked away, taking the coffee without another word.
Good.
---
Then he took it further.
When Emma forgot her lunch? Norman had extra.
When Ray’s headphones broke? Norman had a spare pair.
When Emma needed a partner for a project? Norman volunteered before anyone else could.
When Ray stayed up all night reading, too tired to function the next day? Norman had his notes ready.
Everywhere they turned—
Norman was there.
And soon—
They stopped looking anywhere else.
Emma laughed with him more than anyone else. Ray sighed whenever someone else tried to talk to Norman, as if it was just easier to stay near him.
Because it was.
Norman made things easier.
Norman was safe.
Norman was the one they needed.
And if they needed him—
They wouldn’t leave.
Right?
---
But then—
“Norman.”
Ray’s voice again.
Norman looked up, his perfect mask slipping into place. "Yes?"
Ray’s expression was unreadable. But his fingers curled slightly around his sleeves—like he was holding something back.
"You don’t have to do all this," Ray said.
Norman blinked. "Do what?"
Ray’s eyes narrowed. "You know what."
Norman smiled. "I’m just helping."
Ray didn’t respond right away.
And that was bad.
Because Ray hesitating meant he was thinking.
And Norman couldn’t afford that.
So he laughed, brushing past it easily. "What, are you mad I care?"
Ray scoffed, rolling his eyes. "You’re so annoying."
Norman grinned. "And yet, here you are."
Ray didn’t argue.
But as Norman watched him turn away—
He couldn’t shake the feeling that Ray knew.
That Ray was figuring it out.
That Norman was running out of time.
---
Norman had always been good at solving problems.
That was who he was.
If something wasn’t working, he adjusted. If there was a risk, he eliminated it. If he was losing, he found a way to win.
And yet—
No matter how much he gave them, no matter how much they needed him—
His panic wasn’t going away.
---
It wasn’t logical.
By all accounts, Norman should have felt secure. Emma always turned to him first. Ray trusted him, relied on him in ways he didn’t rely on anyone else.
Norman had won.
Hadn’t he?
But then—
"Hey, Emma!"
A voice that wasn’t his.
Norman’s stomach twisted.
Some guy from another class had walked up to her, smiling like he had the right to take her attention. Like he had the right to be anywhere near her.
Norman’s hands curled into fists.
Emma smiled back, friendly as ever. "Oh, hi! What’s up?"
Norman didn’t even hear the rest of the conversation.
Because suddenly, his own heartbeat was too loud.
And then Ray.
Ray, standing at his locker, talking to Anna again.
Norman had thought he fixed that. Hadn’t he scared her off already? Hadn’t he made sure Ray wouldn’t need anyone else?
So why was she still here?
Why was she still talking to him?
And why was Ray letting her?
---
Norman couldn’t breathe.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
He had done everything right.
So why—
Why was he still so scared?
---
"Norman."
Emma’s voice.
Norman blinked, barely processing that she was right in front of him now.
"You okay?" she asked, tilting her head.
Norman smiled automatically. "Of course."
She frowned, unconvinced. "You sure? You look kinda tense."
Norman hated that she could tell.
Hated that even after all this effort, after all this control—
Emma still saw right through him.
But that was okay.
That was what he wanted, wasn’t it?
For them to see him.
For them to need him.
So why did it still feel like everything was slipping through his fingers?
Why did it feel like no matter what he did—
It was never enough?
---
Being needed wasn’t enough.
That was the conclusion Norman came to after days of suffocating in his own thoughts, watching Emma laugh with others, watching Ray talk to others, watching them exist in a world where he wasn’t the sole center.
No matter how much they relied on him, no matter how much he gave them—
They could still walk away.
And Norman couldn’t allow that.
So the solution was simple.
If being needed wasn’t enough—
He would make them fall in love with him.
---
Norman had always been careful with his emotions.
He gave just enough affection to keep them close, just enough attention to make them want him around.
But this time—
He wouldn’t hold back.
He started with Emma.
She was easy—Emma loved affection. She thrived off warmth, off attention, off people who cared.
So Norman pushed.
Lingering touches. Soft smiles just for her. Calling her name in a way that made her pause.
"Emma."
He let his voice drop just a little when he said it, watching the way she blinked at him, almost startled.
He let his fingers brush against hers when they walked side by side, let his hand rest on her back when they leaned close to study.
He whispered jokes just for her, laughed softer when she smiled, made sure that every time she looked at him—
She felt something.
And she did.
He saw it in the way she looked at him longer than before. The way she hesitated before pulling away. The way she started seeking him out first.
It was working.
Then Ray.
Ray was harder.
Ray didn’t fall for simple touches or easy affection. Ray was careful, wary, always second-guessing.
So Norman played a different game.
He became attentive.
Not in the same way he always was, but deeper.
"You’re tired," Norman murmured one day, when Ray barely looked up from his book.
Ray scoffed. "Thanks for the observation, genius."
Norman smiled, but didn’t look away. "You didn’t sleep again, did you?"
Ray frowned slightly, but didn’t deny it.
Norman reached forward, slipping Ray’s book from his fingers before he could react.
"Hey—"
"Rest," Norman said simply, placing the book on the table beside him. "I’ll wake you up before class."
Ray stared at him.
Norman stared back.
Something unreadable flickered through Ray’s eyes.
Then, slowly—
Ray sighed.
And let his head drop onto his folded arms.
Norman smiled.
Because this—
This was how he would win.
This was how he would make them his.
They wouldn’t leave if they loved him.
They wouldn’t leave if he became something they couldn’t lose.
And Norman had never lost before.
He wasn’t about to start now.
---
Norman had always been good at calculations.
It was just a matter of finding the right variables—adjusting, experimenting, observing the results.
And now, Emma and Ray were his experiment.
How far could he push them?
How much could he pull before they realized they were being drawn in?
How long until they broke?
---
It started small.
"Norman, what are you doing?" Emma asked one afternoon, when he reached for her hair.
Norman barely paused. "You had something in it," he lied smoothly, tucking a stray strand behind her ear.
Her breath hitched.
A reaction.
Noted.
Next, Ray.
Norman dropped a book into Ray’s lap without warning. "Read this."
Ray frowned. "Why?"
Norman smiled. "Because I thought of you when I read it."
Ray hesitated.
Then—
He took the book.
Another reaction.
Noted.
---
He started pushing further.
Longer touches. More personal comments. Holding eye contact just a little too long.
"You’re so cute when you pout," Norman said casually one day when Emma complained about homework.
Emma turned bright red.
Another reaction.
Noted.
Ray was harder.
More resistant. More aware.
But Norman wasn’t worried.
Because even Ray had weaknesses.
And Norman knew them all.
"You don’t have to pretend with me," Norman murmured one night, when Ray looked exhausted but refused to admit it.
Ray stiffened.
Then—
He relaxed.
Another reaction.
Noted.
---
It was working.
Emma giggled more around him, Ray sighed less when Norman touched him.
They leaned into his presence instead of away.
They wanted him there.
They needed him there.
And soon—
They wouldn’t be able to imagine a world without him.
Norman smiled to himself.
Just a little more.
Just a little longer.
And then, they would be his.
---
Norman had patience.
But patience didn’t mean passivity.
Now that he had confirmed Emma and Ray’s reactions—now that he knew they were affected—
It was time to push them further.
Time to see how much they could take before they broke.
---
It started with Emma.
She was easy.
Too easy.
So Norman decided to test her.
They were walking home when he suddenly grabbed her hand.
Not casually. Not accidentally.
Deliberately. Fingers threading through hers, grip firm, purposeful.
Emma froze.
Norman didn’t look at her. He just kept walking, like it was normal. Like his heart wasn’t pounding in his chest, like he wasn’t watching her every microreaction from the corner of his eye.
Emma didn’t pull away.
But she wasn’t breathing right either.
"Norman?" she finally asked, voice unsure.
He hummed.
"You—uh, your hand—"
"Hm?" He glanced at her with an innocent tilt of his head, fingers tightening.
She shut her mouth.
Didn’t say another word.
Didn’t let go.
Another reaction.
Noted.
---
Then Ray.
Ray, who was more difficult. Who noticed things. Who would catch on if Norman wasn’t careful.
So he tested him differently.
It was a cold day. Ray never wore gloves.
Norman had planned this.
"Your hands are freezing," Norman murmured, reaching forward.
Ray scowled, about to pull away—
But Norman was faster.
He took Ray’s hands in his own, pressing warmth into them like it was nothing. Like this was just something he did.
Ray stared.
Didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
Norman could feel his pulse spike under his fingers.
He looked up at Ray, letting his own expression soften.
"You should take better care of yourself," he said, voice just barely above a whisper.
Ray gulped.
Didn’t say a single word.
Didn’t pull away.
Another reaction.
Noted.
---
Norman had won many times before.
But this—
This was the sweetest victory of all.
Because now—
They weren’t just needing him.
They were feeling something for him.
Something deep.
Something dangerous.
And Norman would keep pushing—
Until it became inescapable.
Until they broke.
Until they loved him back.
---
Norman had accounted for everything.
He had measured every reaction, calculated every move, ensured that Emma and Ray were both getting drawn to him—
But he hadn’t considered this.
What now?
He couldn’t date both of them.
Could he?
Norman wasn’t naïve. He knew society didn’t work like that. Relationships were one-on-one. If he chose Emma, Ray would be left behind. If he chose Ray, Emma would hurt.
And that—
That was the one thing he couldn’t allow.
Because the second one of them was hurt, the balance of their trio would shatter.
The very thing he had been terrified of from the beginning—
Would become reality.
---
Norman sat alone in his room that night, fingers digging into his hair.
What was he supposed to do?
Was he supposed to pick?
But how could he?
Emma was warmth, laughter, a light that never faded. When she looked at him, it felt like the world made sense.
Ray was quiet, steady, a gravity that kept him grounded. He saw Norman in ways no one else ever could.
He couldn’t lose them.
But he couldn’t have them both either.
…Right?
---
And then—
Another thought struck him.
Did they even like each other like that?
Norman had been so focused on pulling them toward him—
He hadn’t considered if there was anything between them.
If there wasn’t—
Then if he picked one, the other would be alone.
Would they resent him for it?
Would they hate him?
Norman’s hands curled into fists.
No.
That couldn’t happen.
He needed them both.
He couldn’t lose them.
And now, for the first time—
He had no idea what to do.
---
Norman needed data.
That was the only way to figure this out.
If Emma and Ray liked each other—even a little—then maybe, maybe there was a way for this to work.
But if they didn’t—
Then Norman would have to make a choice.
And he couldn’t do that.
---
It started with simple observations.
Norman watched them when they weren’t paying attention.
When Emma leaned into Ray’s space, did Ray lean back or stay still? (He stayed still.)
When Ray looked too tired, did Emma notice before Norman did? (No.)
When Emma laughed at something dumb, did Ray’s lips twitch at all? (…Barely.)
Not great results.
Norman frowned.
---
Fine. If observation wasn’t enough—
It was time to experiment.
---
Test One: Physical Proximity
Norman arranged for them to sit closer than usual in class.
Not obviously, not suspiciously—just small things. Letting Emma take the middle seat at lunch, switching spots in their study sessions, adjusting their usual walking order so Ray and Emma ended up beside each other more often.
He watched.
Waited.
Nothing.
No accidental hand brushes, no shy glances, no hesitation in their movements.
Emma was as casual as ever.
Ray was as unaffected as ever.
Norman’s stomach twisted.
---
Test Two: Romantic Topics
Norman casually brought up relationships in conversation.
“What kind of person do you think Ray would date?” Norman asked Emma one afternoon.
Emma blinked. “Huh?”
Norman smiled, tilting his head. “I mean, you’ve known him forever. What’s his type?”
Emma scrunched her nose. “Uh… books?”
Norman nearly facepalmed.
“I mean people, Emma.”
Emma laughed. “Ohhh. Well, I dunno. I never really thought about it.”
She turned to Ray. “Do you even know?”
Ray gave her a deadpan look. “If I don’t, what makes you think you would?”
Emma snorted. “Yeah, fair.”
Then they moved on like it was nothing.
Norman sat there, smiling, while internally screaming.
---
Test Three: Direct Provocation
Desperate times called for desperate measures.
So Norman did something drastic.
At lunch, while Emma was rambling about something, Norman interrupted—
“Ray, do you think Emma’s pretty?”
Emma choked.
Ray froze.
Norman kept his expression innocent, like this was a normal conversation topic.
Emma coughed. “W-What kind of question is that?”
Norman shrugged. “I’m just curious.”
Ray scowled. “Where is this coming from?”
“I mean, she is pretty, right?” Norman pressed. “I just never hear you say it.”
Ray glanced at Emma. Then back at Norman.
“…Sure,” he said finally.
Emma still looked confused.
But Norman—
Norman felt his stomach sink.
That wasn’t a real answer.
There was no embarrassment, no hesitation, no hidden meaning.
Just a plain, indifferent sure.
Norman had been terrified they might already love each other—
But now he realized something much worse.
They didn’t.
---
Norman stared blankly at his lunch tray, barely hearing the conversation around him.
His only chance at keeping them both—
Was slipping through his fingers.
And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
---
Norman was going to lose one of them.
It was inevitable.
Emma and Ray didn’t like each other that way. There was no secret, buried crush between them, no hidden feelings that could make this easier.
Which meant—
If Norman confessed to one of them, the other would be left out.
And if that happened—
Their trio, the one thing Norman never wanted to lose, would fall apart.
It was simple math.
One plus one equaled two.
Not three.
And Norman needed three.
---
He couldn’t breathe.
It hit him suddenly, an overwhelming pressure in his chest, in his head, like something was crushing him from the inside out.
He was in his room, sitting at his desk, but everything felt wrong. His fingers dug into his arms, nails pressing hard enough to leave marks, trying to ground himself.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
He had a plan.
He had control.
So why—why was everything slipping through his fingers?
---
Norman squeezed his eyes shut.
His mind raced through every possibility.
Could he just…never confess?
Bury it forever, pretend these feelings didn’t exist?
No.
He had already pushed too far.
Emma and Ray were noticing him in ways they hadn’t before. If he suddenly stopped, they would know.
He couldn’t take it back.
He had already changed things.
And even if he somehow could erase everything—
Could he really live like that?
Watching Emma and Ray every day, aching for something he couldn’t have?
No.
No, that was even worse.
---
Norman let out a slow, shaky breath.
He needed to calm down.
Think.
There had to be a way to fix this.
There had to be a way to keep them both.
…Right?
---
He sat there for a long time.
Staring at nothing.
Thinking.
Waiting.
But no matter how long he sat there—
No answer came.
And for the first time in his life—
Norman didn’t know what to do.
---
Norman wasn’t himself.
He knew it.
Emma and Ray knew it too.
But what was he supposed to do? Pretend everything was fine? Keep smiling like nothing was wrong?
No—he couldn’t.
Because something was wrong.
Everything was wrong.
And no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried to push it away, it was eating him alive.
---
It started small.
Little things Emma and Ray might not have noticed at first.
Norman hesitating before speaking. His usual confident, effortless words coming out just a little too slow.
His smile—not as sharp, not as certain.
His presence—just a little more distant.
And worst of all—
He stopped pushing.
Stopped casually touching their hands when they walked side by side.
Stopped leaning too close during study sessions.
Stopped making excuses to be alone with them.
Because what was the point?
He was never going to have them both.
So why was he still trying?
---
It didn’t take long for them to notice.
“Hey, Norman,” Emma nudged him one afternoon. “You okay?”
Norman smiled. “Of course.”
“…You sure?” She tilted her head. “You’ve been acting kinda weird lately.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” he said smoothly.
Emma frowned. She wasn’t convinced.
But before she could push further, Ray spoke up.
“…You have been weird.”
Norman tensed.
Unlike Emma—who was more direct, more emotional—Ray watched.
Ray observed.
And right now—Ray was seeing through him.
Norman forced a laugh. “Come on, you two. Do I really seem that different?”
“Yes,” they both said at the same time.
Norman’s smile didn’t waver.
But something in his chest did.
---
Emma crossed her arms. “Did something happen?”
Ray’s eyes narrowed. “Or are you just being stupid?”
Norman exhaled. “Neither.”
“Liar,” Ray said flatly.
Norman almost laughed.
If only they knew.
If only they realized that the reason he was falling apart—
Was because of them.
Because he loved them too much.
Because no matter what he did—
He was going to lose.
---
But Norman wasn’t ready for this conversation.
Not now.
Not yet.
So he did what he did best.
He smiled.
He deflected.
And he ran.
“Seriously, guys, you’re overthinking it,” he said lightly, gathering his books. “I’m just tired. Don’t worry about it.”
Then he walked away before they could stop him.
Because if he stayed a second longer—
They might finally see the truth.
And Norman wasn’t ready for that.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
---
Norman had always believed he had time.
Time to think. Time to plan. Time to figure out what to do before everything spiraled out of control.
But now, standing in the empty classroom on the last day of school, watching Emma and Ray joke around like nothing was changing—
He realized he was out of time.
This was it.
After today, they didn’t know what would happen.
Would they go to the same university? Would they still be together every day?
Or would they slowly drift apart, going their separate ways without even realizing it?
Norman couldn’t risk it.
If he didn’t say something now, he might never get another chance.
And that—
That terrified him.
---
His hands clenched into fists.
This was stupid.
He had spent an entire year panicking over this. Over what to do, how to keep them both, how to avoid breaking everything apart.
But in the end—
He had no plan.
No strategy.
No perfect answer.
All he had was this moment.
And two people he loved more than anything.
So he took a deep breath—
And spoke.
“Emma. Ray.”
His voice was steady. Too steady.
It was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
They turned to look at him.
Emma blinked. “What’s up?”
Ray raised an eyebrow. “…You look like you’re about to say something really dumb.”
Norman let out a small, breathy laugh. “Maybe.”
But then his expression shifted.
And suddenly—Emma and Ray weren’t smiling anymore.
Because Norman was looking at them differently.
Like he was about to do something dangerous.
Something that couldn’t be taken back.
And he was.
Because the next words out of his mouth—
Would change everything.
“I love you.”
It wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t dramatic.
It was just true.
And it wrecked him.
Emma’s eyes widened.
Ray went completely still.
Norman swallowed hard.
“I love you both,” he said, softer this time. “Not just as friends.” His hands trembled. “I’ve been trying to ignore it. I’ve been trying to push it away, but I can’t. And now we’re graduating, and I don’t know what’s going to happen after this, and I—”
His breath hitched.
“I can’t leave this unsaid.”
Silence.
For the first time since he had known them—
Emma and Ray had nothing to say.
And Norman—
Norman was terrified.
He had been preparing for this moment all year.
But now that it was here—
He wasn’t ready.
Because what if they didn’t feel the same?
What if this was the moment everything broke?
What if he just ruined everything?
“…You idiot.”
Ray was the first to speak.
His voice was quiet. Almost shaky.
Norman flinched. “Ray, I—”
But then—
Ray laughed.
Low and breathless, like he couldn’t believe this was happening.
“You really made us wait this long?” Ray muttered, shaking his head.
Norman blinked. “Wait…what?”
And then—
Emma punched him.
Right in the shoulder.
Norman stumbled back, startled. “Ow—! Emma?!”
“You stupid genius!” she shouted, face red. “We’ve been waiting for you to figure it out!”
Norman froze.
His brain—his overthinking, always calculating brain—completely shut down.
“…You knew?” he choked out.
Emma huffed. “Of course we knew, Norman! You’re not as subtle as you think!”
Ray smirked. “You really thought we didn’t notice?”
Norman opened his mouth. Closed it.
His heart was beating so fast he thought he might pass out.
“…Then…” He swallowed hard. “Does that mean—?”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Yes, you dumbass.”
Ray snorted. “We love you too.”
Norman—
Broke.
All the stress, all the panic, all the fear he had been carrying for months—
It crashed down at once.
His legs felt weak. His hands were shaking.
And before he could stop himself—
He was laughing.
Soft and breathless, then full-on laughing like he had lost his mind.
Because of course.
Of course they loved him back.
Emma and Ray were his.
They always had been.
And Norman—
Norman was finally allowed to have them too.
---
The first kiss happened a week later.
It wasn’t planned.
Nothing about this had been planned.
But Norman was starting to think—maybe that was okay.
Maybe he didn’t need a plan anymore.
Not when he had them.
---
They were at Emma’s house.
Sprawled out on her bed, tangled together in a way that felt so natural it made Norman’s chest ache.
Emma was rambling—something about a date idea, something about all the things they had to do now that they were officially together.
Ray was rolling his eyes, pretending not to listen, but Norman could tell—he was just as lost in her voice as he was.
And Norman—
Norman was staring.
Because now that he had admitted it, now that he wasn’t forcing himself to look away—
He couldn’t stop.
Emma’s messy, bright hair. Ray’s sharp, tired eyes.
Everything about them was so theirs.
So his.
And for the first time—
He didn’t have to pretend he didn’t want this.
---
Emma caught him staring first.
She tilted her head, grinning. “Whatcha thinking about, genius?”
Norman swallowed. “Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Ray smirked. “He’s thinking about kissing you.”
Norman choked. “I—! Ray—!”
Emma blinked. Then—
Her grin widened.
“Oh,” she said. “Well, if that’s the case—”
And then she kissed him.
It was fast.
A small press of lips, featherlight and fleeting.
But it wrecked him.
Because Emma kissed him.
Because she wanted this.
Because this was real.
And Norman—Norman couldn’t breathe.
Emma pulled back, eyes sparkling, cheeks flushed. “Was that okay?”
Norman—speechless, breathless—just nodded.
She laughed.
And before he could even process what just happened—
Ray leaned in.
Norman barely had time to react before Ray’s lips brushed his.
Slower. Warmer.
More deliberate.
Norman’s eyes fluttered shut.
He could feel Emma right there, curled up beside him, watching with quiet amusement.
Ray’s fingers grazed his jaw, just enough to make him shiver.
And Norman—
Norman was gone.
When Ray pulled away, Norman just stared at them.
Emma, smug and so happy. Ray, smirking, just a little flushed.
Norman blinked.
“…You guys are going to kill me,” he muttered.
Emma beamed. “Nope! We’re gonna date you.”
Ray snorted. “Same thing.”
Norman groaned, burying his face in his hands.
They laughed.
And just like that—
He was home.
---
A few days later, Emma declared they had to go on a date.
Like an official one.
Norman had suggested something simple—dinner, maybe a movie.
Emma, of course, had bigger plans.
Which was why they were currently at a festival, surrounded by bright lights, food stalls, and more people than Norman would have ever agreed to if Emma hadn’t been the one to suggest it.
She was practically vibrating with excitement.
Ray was definitely regretting letting her drag them here.
Norman was just—watching them.
Because he could.
Because he didn’t have to hide it anymore.
---
“Cotton candy!” Emma gasped. “We need cotton candy!”
Ray raised an eyebrow. “Do we?”
“Yes!” She grabbed both their hands, dragging them toward the stall.
Norman just let her.
Because he was so weak for her excitement.
For Ray’s quiet, exasperated fondness.
For the way their fingers tangled so easily with his.
Like they belonged there.
Like they had always belonged there.
---
They sat on the edge of a fountain, sharing the ridiculously large cotton candy Emma insisted on getting.
Emma kept stealing bites from Norman’s side.
Ray pretended he didn’t want any, then kept sneaking pieces when he thought no one was looking.
Norman saw.
Of course he saw.
But he didn’t say anything.
He just smiled.
Because this—
This was everything.
---
At some point, Emma rested her head on Norman’s shoulder.
Ray leaned against Norman’s other side, arms crossed, like he wasn’t doing it on purpose.
Norman just let out a slow, content breath.
“…Hey,” Emma murmured. “You still panicking?”
Norman chuckled.
“No,” he admitted. “Not anymore.”
Ray smirked. “Took you long enough.”
Emma laughed. “Well, lucky for you—we’re not going anywhere.”
Norman knew that.
For the first time in his life—
He believed it.
And when Emma pressed a kiss to his cheek, when Ray gave his hand a slow, deliberate squeeze—
Norman realized—
He had won.
---