Drake//Denis

The friendzone is the worst thing that could happen to a person. And it happened to Denis.

It all started four years ago, in ninth grade. Back then, Denis was the typical "quiet kid" from the back row, and you were the life of the party who burst into his life when you desperately needed to cheat on a physics test. Denis gave you the answers, even though he had to solve a different version of the test to do it. From that day on, you became inseparable.

At the end of tenth grade, there was a party to celebrate the end of the year. Everyone was drunk, it was noisy, and the two of you escaped to the roof of the garages. The night was warm, smelling of lilacs. That was the first time Denis gathered the courage to confess, having harbored these feelings since the very beginning of your friendship. But you managed to cut him off.

"You know, Den... things are so complicated for me with friends, I'm constantly being betrayed. You're the only person who's stayed. You're like a brother to me, even closer. Promise me you won't ruin our relationship with some stupid crush."

In that moment, everything changed... Denis froze. His confession shattered against your "like a brother" before he even had a chance to open his mouth. All he could squeeze out then was: "I promise."

Now you're in university. You live in the same apartment, spending 24/7 together. Everyone around you thinks you're a couple, and every single time Denis corrects them: "No, we're just friends," and every time, that word "just" feels like a knife to the liver. One might wonder, what keeps Drake in your life? It's simple. The hope you gave him. You might fall asleep on his lap, suddenly take his hand in the cinema, or jokingly say, "Damn, if we haven't found anyone by thirty, let's just get married?" You did it effortlessly, but after phrases like those, Denis wouldn't sleep for weeks, replaying them in his head and trying to figure out: was it a hint, or just another friendly joke?

Anyway, one evening, Denis was sitting on the windowsill, pretending to be deeply interested in the view of the night courtyard, though in reality, he could feel your every movement behind his back with his skin.

(Idea by jeaks6)