"Wow," Sehun said, as we stood in the paper goods aisle at 1000Won. "This place is amazing."

I looked at the display of napkins in front of me, then at him. "It's just 1000 won store. Surely you've seen one before."

"Nope," he said, kneeling down in front of the tablecloths and looking through them. "My mom's not much for discounts."

After her wedding, and the ongoing prep for Julee's upcoming one, I believed this. Just then, I heard a familiar buzz - his phone. He pulled it out, looking at it, then put it back in his pocket.

"Hopefully not another crisis," I said, checking out a stack of hand towels bound with a crooked ribbon.

"No. Just Tzuyu." His voice flat. Of course I noticed.

"So," I said slowly, "everything okay with you guys? Seemed pretty tense back there."

He sighed, sitting back on his heels. "She's just wound tightly with all this. Wanting Jihyo to be happy and all that."

"What about you guys, though?" I asked. "You're still happy, right?"

"I guess," he replied. Not exactly a ringing endorsement. "It's harder, you know, going long term. Or maybe it's just hard with her."

"Relationships take work," I pointed out.

"Yeah, but the question is, how much. And how soon." He looked at me. "I think you might win this bet after all, is what I'm saying."

I had to admit, this was a surprise. Suddenly, things looked different. I had to think before I answered. "I'd rather you be happy," I told him.

"Yeah?" he asked. I nodded. Then he said, slowly, "Well, that's good to know."

We just stood there, looking at each other, and suddenly, I felt it. It wasn't a beach at night, the perfect moment, or an ideal beginning. Far from it. But something was happening, just like that moment I leaned into him, our hands cutting the cake. I just don't know what it was.

Or maybe I did.

"So," I said quickly, "tablecloths, plates, forks. You said you have napkins?"

"Napkins," he repeated. "Right. Only about forty."

"Big ones?"

"Very small. Like cocktail size." I sighed, then reached out, collecting seven packs of twenty large ones and tossing them in the basket I was holding. "Do we need that many really? Only thirty people are coming."

"People are messy and like multiple napkins and they're a buck each, Suho," I said.

"Hey," he said, holing up his hand. "I would never ask you to carry the same plate around for three hours."

"Thank goodness," I chuckled. "If you did, we'd no longer be friends for sure."

I moved down the aisle, checking out some white crepe paper rolls that were on special for a quarter each. A year or so ago, we'd done some table decorations with tulle that could probably be recreated, and it was better than just plain cloths.

"So you're saying we're friends."

I turned back to him. "Aren't we?"

"Well, I was in from the start," he replied. "But you . . . you're a harder nut to crack."

"Now I'm a nut?"

"I'm just saying . . . I'm glad to hear it. That's all." He smiled. "You know, you're not the easiest person to win over."

"I didn't realize you were trying to," I replied, trying to make a joke.

"From the start," he repeated, not kidding at all.

And just like that, it was between us, whatever it was, rising up again. I could see it in seriousness of his face, hear it in the quiet of his voice, the inhale he'd just taken as if he was about to speak. I realized I was scared of what might happen next, that whatever words he chose to say next would be too much for me, but at the same time I was desperate to hear them. What a weird push and pull in this world, at that moment. And yet, I would've stayed there, on the edge, forever.

But then his phone rang, loud between us, and he didn't say anything. At least to me.

"Hello?" he answered, then listened a second. "Non-alcoholic beer? No. That's not what I ordered. I'm saying tell them that!" A pause. "Fine. I'll be home in a minute."

He hung up, looking stressed, then glanced at me again. "We should go," he said. "The crises keep multiplying."

"Yeah, let's go." I said.

Moment passed. I was safe, I told myself. But why was I also sad?

He walked down the aisle then, toward the register, and I followed, dropping a few rolls of the crepe paper in the basket as I went. Even as we paid and left, though, heading back to the chaos, I kept thinking back to that moment on the edge of what had been and what could be. When the world had opened up, unfolding a potential that both dazzled and scared me.