He's as tall as Thomas, and the same age, but they don't look similar at all.

Aris has got dark blonde hair. It sits messily on his head and falls onto his forehead. He has a slender built. His eyes are sharp. He's staring at the ground, though, standing awkwardly.

Minho shakes his hand first. "Minho."

"Aris," he mutters shyly.

I also shake his hand. His grip is soft. I think if I would stop holding him right now, our hands would simply apart. I can tell how nervous he is by the trembles and sweat. "Viviette, but you can call me Vi or something."

"Okay."

I give him a smile, which he returns hesitantly.

Then Finn and then Dad introduce themselves to Aris. Lastly, Thomas.

He stayed here pretty much the whole day. Tried to help with math, which didn't work, helped Minho with his hangover by forcing him into the sea, which kind of worked, and helped Mom cook things so he scores extra points or something.

"I'll give a tour around the house," Mom says. "Finn, come. Show your room."

"Well." Thomas turns to me once they've disappeared upstairs, a look of approval written over his face. "He seems okay."

"Not literally."

Thomas palms his face. "I wasn't even talking to you, Minho. Shut up."

He holds his hands beside his head. Scoffs a bit. "Jeez. My apologies."

"Just be nice to him," I tell Minho. "The better this goes, the faster it'll probably be over and you'll have your privacy."

"Not really. The worse this goes, the faster Mom will stop. What do they plan on doing when it does go well? Where will he go? We get a new sibling?"

Thomas shrugs. "I don't know. Don't worry about it, man. I told you, you can stay at mine whenever you want."

Shaking his head, Minho mutters something about 'replacing', then he walks up the stairs.

"Well." I put my hands on my sides. A deep sigh leave my mouth. It's some kind of relief to do that in situations like these. "I get both sides."

"Me too," Thomas agrees. "Anyway, how's it going with the carpet?"

I roll my eyes. "Patience is a virtue, Thomas."

"Also," he adds a sweet little smile, "can you make me a shirt? Teresa and I are going to a restaurant in a few days and I can't find a proper shirt anywhere. It has to be neat, but not too neat. And needs to be me, you know?"

"You mean it has to be blue."

"Yes, exactly." He licks his lips, takes a few steps around, sits down. "Is that possible? I really need something."

"Yeah, okay."

I won't mind helping him with things like this. In fact, we promised things like this. I have a vague memory of him saying he wanted me to be the one to make his suit for when he marries.

He makes a beg sign, or in this case, appreciation sign with his hands. "Thank you!"

"I need your sizes, though. All I've been doing the past year is repairing your clothes, not making you things."

"Oh, right." Thomas gets up from the chair. If screeches over the stone floor. An awful sound. "Upstairs?"

"Obviously."

Together, we enter my room. My face started getting red since the moment I mentioned needing his sizes. Measuring can be... what's the right word? Something.

I turn around with the tape measure in my hands. Thomas is standing in the middle of my room, all ready.

"Eh." The heat keeps rising up my cheeks. "Your shirt."

He looks down at it, confused for a second.

"It needs to be off," I add.

Thomas takes it off in a smooth motion and drops it down on my bed. I force my eyes on the notebook in my hands.

"Okay. Stand still." I step closer before I start wrapping the measuring tape around the fullest part of his chest. Heat radiates off his skin. I try to ignore it.

I've seen him shirtless so many times before. I've measured him before. I've been alone with him before. I need to calm down, jeez.

"You're shaking—"

"Sshh," I snap quickly. This will be done in a minute. Just need the length of his arms, width of his waist, and maybe hips and neck.

I sit down on the tip of my bed. "Come here."

Thomas steps in front of me. Like this, I can perfectly reach his waist. I wrap the—

"Oh!" Mom yelps.

Thomas twists around. I'm so startled that I drop the tape.

Ugh. Mom, Dad, Finn, and Aris.

"What—" Finn covers a laugh in his hand.

My mouth is half open. "It's not what it looks like."

"You're out of breath, Thomas is shirtless, you're sitting like that, he's standin—"

"Finn, stop it," I hiss. "I was measuring."

Minho's head appears. "What part?"

"My waist," Thomas says dryly. "She's going to make me a shirt."

"Right. Of course." Minho grins.

Mom attracts the attention to herself by clearing her throat. "This is Vi's room. I don't think you'll come here a lot, Aris, but just so you know."

He seems a little taken aback as he looks around my room. The walls are dark red— it's my favorite color. Pictures of the people I love are everywhere, hanging or standing or just lying on my desk, which is big enough to both sew and make homework on.

"We'll leave you two alone now," Dad says. The door closes, and silence erupts.

"Eh." I chuckle a bit. "Retry."

Again, I wrap the tape around his waist. "How long do you want the shirt to be?"

"I don't know. My shirts usually come past my waist."

"Do you want to tuck this one in your pants? By the way, give a good description of what you want."

"Maybe some sort of button-up? Dark blue?"

"Yeah. Or maybe three buttons at the top."

"Sounds fine."

"Long-sleeved?"

"Yeah. But I guess I'll wear a jacket, too."

"AKA, you'll tuck it in your pants."

"Yup."

"So it needs to be long," I mumble below my breath. I take the measuring tape again. "Stand still."

"I know."

I move the tape around his hips, take a look at the width, then quickly note that down to get off my bed as fast as possible. "Okay. Lastly, your neck."

Once that's done, I take a deep breath. Stupid stupid stupid— that could've gone way better. Nor did I have to struggle like that.

"When does it have to be done?"

"Next Saturday. Is that okay?"

"Mhm. I think I do deserve some more chocolate for it."

"Alright, fine. But better make it look good." He crosses his arms over his chest, after he has put his shirt back on.

"You know I will."

"Yes, I do." He walks over to the door. "Anyway, I'm gonna go."

I nod. "Alright. Bye."

"See you."

It began with the small things. His laugh, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, his hugs. All those things, once familiar and normal, now send flutters through my chest. But the more things like the moment we just shared happen, the more I can no longer ignore it.

I feel really bad for it. To distract myself from this once again, I just get to work with his shirt.