She smiles sadly at him. There are no more playful twinkles in her eyes now, no more jokes. How can she? They’ve slowly grown apart, all sorts of the tender familiarity they once shared, gone. No more hugs, no more hand-holding. Nothing of that sort.
It’s fascinating to see how close friends slowly turn into strangers. Heart-wretching, even, when you know you’re the one responsible for it.
“Whatcha thinking about?” he asks, scrolling on his phone.
But she can’t answer, for how do you answer such a simple question when you have a whole solar system of thoughts within your mind, constellations flooded by overthinking, shooting stars that you once dreamed of showing your closest friends dying and burning in one grand heap?
He finally looks up, meeting her eyes. “You good?”
No, she wants to say. No, I’m not, because I miss you.
No, I’m not, because this time I’ve pushed and pushed and pushed away the people I loved, to the point where they never come back.
No, I’m not, because every time I see you with her, my heart feels like it’s been ripped out of my chest.
She can still recall how tightly he held on to her when they went on the roller coaster at the Strawberry Fair a few months back. Still recall how they held hands, walking together to class and meeting up after school. Still recall their first hug, which turned out to be their last. She chides herself for all the missed opportunities, all the stupid things she did, all the times she didn’t take his hand even as he reached out, all the times she wanted to hug him but couldn’t. Screams at herself for not trying harder, harder to keep this slowly sinking ship afloat, this beautiful thing they once shared, alive.
But most importantly, she grieves for their friendship. The easiness they shared with each other. The two of them tiptoeing around the elephant in the room as they orbited each other, ignoring the whispers, the murmurs about their relationship. She’s had many regrets, she has, but one of her biggest ones is not realizing how it all started to fall apart in the middle of December, for not realizing that the last time they spent time alone was six months ago, for not recognizing how foolish she was in acting indifferent around him when he made her heart sing, her cheeks rosy, her spirits high.
She regrets not loving him enough, and then introducing him to the girl who would take her place, unaware that it would be the beginning of the end.
Except there is no going back now. She’s pushed too hard and destroyed everything, naively thinking that their bond could’ve been salvaged. After all, sometimes messed-up people push others away to see who’s brave enough to push back. To see who’s willing to go further to see how they really are. To see that they’re actually hiding from love, from feelings.
From vulnerability.
But she doesn’t say any of that, and maybe she never will. Maybe these thoughts will remain in her mind, carried to her grave. A sum of mistakes, and a difference in life.
“I’m fine,” she says. “What about you?”
