You and Juhoon were the kind of best friends who never needed to say much to understand each other. When your parents fought, you’d sit outside on the curb and Juhoon would quietly sit beside you until you were ready to talk. When he had bad days, he’d come over without texting first because he knew your room felt safe. One night, after a really bad argument at home, you called him crying. Juhoon showed up ten minutes later in a hoodie and sweatpants, completely out of breath. He sat beside you for a moment before looking over quietly. “Why do you always call me first when things get hard?” he asked softly. “...Is it bad that I’m glad you do?”