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The number one rule to any friendship is don’t fall in love with your best friend—a simple task. Don’t overthink any ambiguous text, random touching, or gestures that could be interpreted to contain romantic undertones. Don’t look at them for too long, because then you’ll start to notice their nose, splattered with freckles, crinkles when they laugh, their hair curls around the nape of their neck, and when they smile their tongue pokes out the side of their teeth. These may seem like innocent gestures, but the staring quickly avalanches into admiration, and then one day it will strike the brain like a bat hitting a ball pitched ninety miles an hour. I have a crush; that realization will besiege the brain like an incurable plague. A mental sickness that manifests as physical aches in the chest, like pressure under the ribs that constricts my beating heart from pumping the vital blood needed to keep my organs surviving. It will sit in my stomach when I see him fawning over another, bile desperately trying to claw its way up my throat, but I keep it sitting under my tongue as I force a smile. I could feel it in my brain, pounding on the door, and no matter how many times I screamed for it to stop, the tears cascading down my face as I lay my head into my pillow wouldn’t make the sickness feel any guilt, so it stays leeched onto my body.
It should never have happened this way. The feeling snuck up on me, a sly fox waiting in the bushes, and then when it ambushed upon me I was trapped. We should never have become friends, to begin with, yet even though I yearn for his affection, I can’t picture my life without him. It’s vile how friends can indirectly hurt you eminently, but be the grounding saviors in your story.
Lance McClain was the most obnoxious boy I have ever met. He was exceedingly loud, not just his voice volume, although that was just as noisy, but his personality and the way he masqueraded around with confidence by flirting with every girl in a ten-foot radius of him, his clothes that hugged his not overly muscular but toned thin frame, typically in a bright blue that matched his eyes, and his mannerisms when he got overly excited, or mad, or annoyed, flailing his arms around and creating projectiles out of any objects that his lanky arms touched. It was a much more arduous task to ignore the boy than it was to just pay attention, he always caught wondering eyes but he basked in the glory, glowing in the spotlight. The complete opposite of me, who prefers to be a shadow in people’s lives, so easily avoided as if I was never there, just making my way through life. It was working too, until he declared a rivalry between us. One that I had taken months to catch wind of.
Everything was a competition with him, more specifically with me than anyone else. It started freshman year of high school from what I’ve gathered over his stories. We coincidently ended up sharing all except two classes, and not to be hubristic but I landed at the top of all my classes, it was just a fact; one has a lot of time to study when you don’t have friends and don’t go out of your way to socialize at parties, clubs, or any other events. I had expectations to fulfill.
My brother, Shiro, was valedictorian and accepted into an elite aeronautical program, therefore everyone expected his younger brother to have a similar fate. Every achievement I made he’d already hit and every mistake was nitpicked because Shiro did everything perfectly. I felt like I was being examined under a magnifying glass, every flaw seen in times ten. My only choice was to push myself to the brink.
How could I have known fate would throw a wrench in my plans to go unnoticed and unbothered? I never asked for him to take notice of me.
Yet one day in my fifth-period lunch a gangly boy with a rich amber complexion and water-blue eyes that were ready to join the ocean shoved a perfectly manicured finger into my chest and declared, “I got a ninety-eight on our physics test, beat that Kogane!”
I recognized his face from our classes, always being told to quiet down and raising his hand to ask absurd questions. I noticed him out of the corner of my eye when I scribbled down notes or gazed daydreaming out the window when I got bored. However, it wasn’t an everyday occurrence for someone to directly speak to me, meaning it never occurred once in my life, so I sat there dumbfounded.
“I got a ninety-nine, but you are?” I countered.
His mouth hung agape sputtering to find words, “I-what. There is no way you got a ninety-nine! Also, Lance, ya know Lance McClain!” He shouted.
I shrugged my shoulders in response wishing he’d stop yelling and drawing attention to my table.
“We’re rivals! Lance and Keith, always neck and neck!” He yelled once again.
“Well clearly I’m winning then since I scored better than you,” I growled growing more agitated. Could he be any louder?
He dramatically threw his hand across his chest as if he’d been shot, “Just you wait, mullet. I’m coming for your throne.”
“It’s not a mullet,” I huffed.
“Oh wait I think I’m getting a call,” he held his hand up to his ear like he had a phone and set it back down, “That was Hulk Hogan and he wants his haircut back,” he stomped away and I sat watching him turn back to his table, sitting with two of his friends that I vaguely recognized but couldn’t recall their names. I was left alone for the rest of that period wondering whether the encounter had happened or was only a weird dream my mind had conjured.
The rest of the week I had taken notice of him more. I witnessed the scowl he would send my way when our eyes met before he quickly turned his head away. How he furiously scrawled down the notes but often started fidgeting with his pen when he was bored.
It was stupid. I didn’t care about his grades or what he thought of me, but it was fun to indulge in his banter. It was an adrenaline rush and I was a junkie. I didn’t care about beating him, no, I just wanted to watch him storm up to me and watch his face grow redder with each snarky comeback. The game I didn’t know I was playing was fun when I learned the rules.
I don’t know when the shift happened. It was like the seasons changing, you don’t notice the arrival of spring until one day you look outside and notice all the trees have regained their luscious green leaves and a myriad of colored flowers paints a picture over the yard. The competition never died but it changed from angry remarks to funny comebacks. When the glares became soft knowing smirks. He motivated me to be better more than the fear of disappointing everyone else could. That changed too though.
If I had to pinpoint a moment that shattered the thin line between rivals and friends was when we were paired for a project in English class. It was halfway through the freshman year he made us rivals and we had to create a project on the Iliad and whether we thought Odysseus was a hero or not. When our English teacher had paired us up Lance had begged her to choose anyone else to be his partner, and I wasn’t enthralled with the decision either. Her decision was final though, and she told us it would be good for us to learn to get along, making her intentions clear. This was not a random chance of fate to be together, it was a teacher sick of our foolish antics.
We had agreed to do the project at my house since it would be quieter considering Lance has five siblings, and with Shiro in college, I was an only child in the house. We walked the whole back to my house gently shoving one another, him making fun of my hair never letting go of the fact he thought it was a mullet and I’d laugh as he tripped over his foot and tell him for having such long legs he sure doesn’t know how to use them. The stroll was brisk and only took ten minutes to arrive at my house from the school. We walked up the stairs to my room and my hands clammed on the door handle, sudden anxiety over the state of my room taking over. No one outside of my family had ever seen it, and I wasn’t expecting guests; images of the clothes I left on the floor, books stacked around the bookshelf, and empty water bottles scattered on my end table and floor flashed through my brain. What was Lance going to think of this? I pushed the door open, realizing how ridiculous I was being, it didn’t matter what he thought.
“Here we are,” I mumbled, averting my eyes to the ground.
“There is a lot less My Chemical Romance postered than I imagined,” he said and when I looked up he was smiling.
“Shut the fuck up,” I grumbled playfully punching his shoulder, but also letting out a breath I was holding in.
“Let’s get to kicking this project’s ass!” He hollered.
We grabbed our books from our backpacks and were soon surrounded by swarms of paper trying to decide.
I skimmed over pages of the textbook which contained summaries of Odyssey's adventures, “To start we need to decide if he was a hero or not, and obviously he isn’t, right?” I asked.
Lance was on his back fiddling with a paper airplane he had made, “What? No way, he was totally a hero. He put his own life in jeopardy to save his men from threats and he was smart too. I mean wasn’t the idea to use the Trojan Horse his? He also tricked those Cyclops too. The man was on a ten-year journey to return home, that’s pretty hero-like if you ask me,” he argued.
“He was also selfish and arrogant. He had too much pride which is how he and his crew ended up in most of those situations. He was reckless when it came to making decisions,” I retorted.
“No one is perfect, not even you mullet,” he threw the plane and it landed on my bed.
“Yet who has the highest grade in this class? It might help if you read the book,” I snarled.
Lance just groaned and rolled onto his stomach, “It’s not my fault that it’s incredibly too long and the language doesn’t make any sense,” and he grabbed his pen spinning it in his fingers.
“Am I boring you?” I question when I notice him fidgeting exactly like he does in class.
“No?” He answered brows scrunched.
“You always start playing with your pens when you get bored, especially in English class,” I state.
“Oh” was all he said, then went uncharacteristically quiet. I thought I would enjoy a moment of tranquility, but I found it to be the opposite, it was suffocating.
He finally spoke up again, “I’m not bored per se, I just have ADHD so it’s hard for me to focus sometimes, especially in English because all she does is talk or make us sit and read, and it’s hard for me to sit still,” he admits sheepishly. He is looking down at the floor playing with the strings of my carpet.
It goes quiet again. I wasn’t expecting such a personal admission and I’m not the best in social situations. Words eventually found my tongue, “I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah, not something I exactly flaunt. Already the Cuban kid with immigrant parents who's known for being annoying. I don’t need to add to the stereotypes,” he laughed but the hurt is evident behind his voice.
“I don’t think you’re annoying,” I replied too quickly, “I mean, I think our competitions are fun, and I understand. I don’t have ADHD but I think we both know I’m not the most socially inept and can be a hothead at times. Plus I understand wanting to meet other's expectations, everyone thinks I need to be perfect like Shiro is, but I’m not. I’m just Keith.”
He flashed his bright grin that I didn’t think I’d miss seeing, “Well I like Keith, he’s a pretty cool guy sometimes.”
I felt the blush creep up my neck, no one’s ever complimented me before with such sincerity laced in their voice, but his was like sweet syrup.
“Thanks,” I murmured.
“No problem mullet. Now wanna see who can throw a paper airplane the farthest?” He goaded.
No work was done for the rest of the day as we argued over the best paper airplane techniques, but it was a good day. One of the first of many memories I would make with my newfound friend. I decided from that day on I wanted to be a better person, having a friend was a warm feeling that I wanted to capture in a bottle and hold close forever. He motivated me to search for that fuzzy feeling that tickled my entire body.
That was three years ago, and now we were finally seniors. Three years of fighting, laughing, crying, and growing closer each day. I could officially say Lance McClain was my best friend, weaseling his way into my life and my heart. I’m a part of a group now, where I finally felt like I belonged. After what I secretly called the bonding moment incident in my bedroom, he introduced me to Pidge and Hunk. Hunk was a gentle giant who could make a mean snickerdoodle. He was the dedicated “mom” of the friend group, always rational, and had great advice. I swear the man has a sixth sense for when something is wrong with his friends. He doesn’t even have to ask, he just knows and he comes over with some baked goods and comforts his friends without them needing to explain. He usually just knew what was wrong or at least had some general gist. Then there was Katie, also known as Pidge, and she is a gremlin. She was two years younger, but she skipped a grade due to her being a literal human-computer. She only stood at five two but she was honestly terrifying. If someone is going to figure out how to travel back in time for the sole purpose of a vengeful murder I’d place my bets on her. Pidge and I instantly clicked over our love of cryptids, sarcasm, and love of making fun of Lance. Unfortunately, Lance isn’t her only victim, everyone is subdued to the fury of Pidge’s teasing, but I know she cares deeply about her friends. Another thing we have in common is we aren’t great with our words, so her silent gestures speak for her whether it be a random hug or Mario Kart games we play when she knows I need a distraction. Both of them easily slotted their places into my life. I knew we would connect when the first time Lance introduced us they teased him, asking if they’d finally stop hearing about this onesided pretend rivalry he had with me. After that, we spent every lunch together, weekends at each other houses, and vacations venturing the nearby city.
The newest addition to our group was Allura. She transferred from London to the United States in the middle of our junior year. She looked like she was taken from the pages of a fashion magazine. She had deep mocha skin that probably never met a pimple in its life. Her long wavy hair was dyed silver but it looked natural against her face. It made her look like she glowed from within rather than relying on beams from the sun. Her eyes were blue like Lance’s, but I never found them as pretty, her didn’t share the same spark that he had. She was tall for a woman, standing at five ten, the same height as me, and she was intimidating. Not only because she was tall, muscular, and could whoop ass if need be, but she always stood up for her opinion when she thought wrongdoings arose. That I admired, but unlike me when I fought back with immediate mean words and punches, she gracefully argued her point through facts and logic, and a determined demeanor. In short, she was the school’s most sought-after date, Lance included.
It annoyed me till no end in the beginning. He always made a spectacle trying to impress her. The start of most days opened with him shooting her some cheesy pickup line that made me cringe. I honestly thought she was going to punch him the first time it happened, I wish she would have and maybe he’d learn a thing or two, but that’s also unlikely considering it’s Lance I’m talking about. She giggled and politely shot down his advances, but it didn’t stop him from trying.
As time moved forward the gestures increasingly became more extravagant, and the subtle pickup lines became presenting flowers or singing her ballads declaring his love. This only infuriated me more, when he could take the hint. The anger felt out of place, even to me, and Pidge and Hunk easily picked up on the extra aggression, yet when I was interrogated I never had an answer for why it irritated me so much. It was annoying to watch him embarrass himself time and time again, but usually, girls just brushed him off, and in the past, I hadn’t acted in such a manner. I ignored the other ping in my heart that came along with the anger, knowing that investigating my own heart would lead to troublesome discoveries I’d rather not unpack. It didn’t last long. The green-eyed monster doesn’t just go away because you ignore it, it will start to seep into every crevice. I may not be the most in tune with my emotions, and my charkas probably don’t align, but I knew what jealousy felt like. I had felt it my entire life watching Shiro getting praised for the smallest acts while I was pushed to the back burner. What did I have to be jealous of? I wasn’t like I wanted Allura, I discovered at the beginning of high school when changing in the boy's locker room that it wasn’t exactly “no homo” of me to stare at guys who had chiseled chests or sharp jawlines and wonder what they looked like under the fluffy white towels that sat below their hip bones hiding their indecency like a cloud.
I wasn’t going to reevaluate my sexuality just because I wanted to claw my eyes out when I watched Lance’s pupils blow out when he spotted Allura and waved her over. I figured it would soon breeze over anyway.
I always seem to make the discoveries at the worst of times, figuring out clues that I wish I could unlearn. It hit me at three a.m. on a Thursday when I couldn’t sleep. Insomnia was an old friend. At that point I knew sleep would be off the table for me, so why not at least enjoy being awake instead of staring at my ceiling like I had been the past two hours? I opened my phone and scrolled through my pictures, looking for one of Pidge when she was younger. She threatened to hack into my phone and leak my entire search history if the picture ever surfaced, and I believe her. She hadn’t grown any taller since, but she had the dark green wire braces removed and the blocky black framed glasses had been replaced with thin circular metal frames. Her hair was still short but she never styled it back then so she lived in a constant state of bedhead. It was also the tail end of our respective emo phases so we wore matching Pierce the Veil shirts with some black eyeliner and a rainbow assortment of jelly wristbands crawled up our arms. It was a picture that always made me smile when looking back at how our friendship has grown. In my search for this picture, I stopped.
I had landed on the picture of me and Lance from the last homecoming. No one in the group had a date besides Hunk, who went with his girlfriend Shay, so our trio all went together as friends. Lance and I had accidentally bought the same vest to go overtop our black button-ups, They were colored with black artistic swirls embellished on, except mine was in a crimson red and he wore a deep royal blue. Lance had teased me about how it showed how badly I wanted to be him, which provoked me to shove him. The result of that was us wrestling with one another, but he unexpectedly picked me up bridal style and spun me around. Pidge had stolen my phone and captured the moment. One hand laid on my ribs while the other held me up under my knees, and my arm found its way snaked around his neck, hand gripping his shoulder for support.
“You look like my date mullet, except you could never pull all of this,” he smirked looking down at me.
“Put me down,” I grunted, so he proceeded to drop me.
The more I examined the picture, that’s when the realization came. In the photo, I was looking up at him and I was surprised with how soft I looked. My focus was on Lance and smiling with my body lifted in the air. My eyes weren’t furrowed like usual and my lips were slightly parted but a coy grin was still evident. Lance's focus was on the camera with his signature inviting boastful smile, the one that shows all his teeth, his dimples, and the smile lines he complains about. He looked unphased. Myself on the other hand? I was looking at him with a look I’d never given anyone before, one that spoke three words I didn’t even know I felt.
“Fuck,” I said aloud to myself.
I was in love with my best friend.
I attempted to pretend like my world hadn’t collapsed on itself. That the burning heat that radiated from my arm which he leaned up against was nothing. The fact that when he spoke I always looked him in his eyes even though I hated eye contact because I was entrapped by his voice and dazzling eyes was just a coincidence. My staring at the slight reveal of midriff when he stretched and his shirt rode was because he was objectively attractive, but it didn’t mean anything. However, time cannot be undone. I knew what I saw and felt. The new anxiety that everyone else sees it too. It wasn’t uncommon for people to ask if we were a couple and our friends to joke it was only a matter of time, but Lance was quick to shut down any accusations. He was straight and me and him were just close friends, and he was comfortable enough with himself to be scared about touching his friends. It felt like my heart was being slowly cut a little deeper with each time we had to explain we weren’t a couple, just best friends because I wanted their assumptions to be the reality.
I fantasized about what it would feel like to have his puffy lips touch my chapped ones. Would I feel the sparks that every romance novel describes? Would he kiss me innocently like a kitten or would it be full of passion and the heat of the moment, or would it feel like nothing at all? I pretended that every compliment and fake flirtatious remark was how he truly felt, but was too terrified to admit it. I deluded myself into believing that when he grabbed my hand to hurry me to our destination or when he sat with his shoulders and knees touching my own because he wanted to feel his skin on mine.
Fantasy is glass and reality would be the rock to shatter my reverie. Reality was not kind to those who lived in a world made of glass. The rock would be thrown slowly cracking and splintering the glass house, but reality hit mine like a boulder creating an explosion of dust. It happened on the day he asked for my help.
We were walking back to my house, an established routine, to idly play games until the sun would set. We dawdled side by side in silence. I could tell Lance was thinking about something because he couldn’t stand silence so he filled the air with conversation and he was bouncing with each step, backpack rustling with him.
“I think I’m going to ask Allura to be my girlfriend,” he stated casually.
How could he be so casual? I halted in my tracks as I felt the swirl of anger, hurt, and jealousy plummet in my gut. I wanted to scream, cry, and vomit all the same time, but I couldn’t. He was my best friend, a person who stuck around even when I desperately tried to push him away. He soothed every insecurity and anxiety I had, came back after we fought, and witnessed me break down only to pull me back together. We understood each other in a way I don’t think anyone else could, so I had a duty to him to be happy because he deserved it.
I choked back every nasty word, “Really?” I asked.
“Yeah. I'm serious about her like I think I’m in love with her. I know I’ve never felt this way about anyone,” He sighed dreamily.
“That’s cool,” I said trying to rid my voice of any emotion, not wanting to let any crack reveal the secrets I’ve been hiding.
He didn’t notice as he continued talking, “I need some help though, because I don’t want to mess this up. I need it to be special, so I thought who would be a better wingman than my best friend.”
He wanted me to help him. I almost laughed at the irony of the situation. The man I was in love with wanted me to help him get the girl of his dreams. My first thought was a hard no, but the more I thought I realized how narcissistic it was. I knew this day would come eventually because while I may be stuck in my quicksand of feelings that only sink me further the more I thrash, he was still upright and walking forward. I can’t deny him his happy ending, not when I see the way he looks at her. Not when I’ve seen the efforts he’s made to capture her attention or the times he’s come to me asking what is wrong with him when she talked about someone else. I was so angry with her for not giving him her time of day when he was so patient and kind. He cared about everyone even when they backstabbed him. How could he think anything was wrong with him when he shined so bright with every passionate retelling of a trivial detail of his day, the way his slight blush when he was embarrassed made his freckles stand out even more against his tan skin, or the way his hair so effortlessly curled around his ears and was just as soft as it looked. I was furious yet grateful because it meant for one more day I could pretend he was mine.
“What’s the game plan?” I asked with a forced smile while the storm that had been brewing inside me turned into a hurricane.
I went home that day and I wanted to throw a tantrum like a kid who hadn’t gotten their way. I wanted to punch the walls until my knuckles bled. I wanted to sob into my pillow until I was shaking with no more tears left to give. I didn’t do any of that. I curled in my bed numb as if a piece of me had been lost. Reality was a bitch.
Lance had told Pidge and Hunk his plan the next day. I stood by his side like a ghost, but that’s what I felt like. Our emotions are what make us human and mine were gone. Lance was as animated as ever as he cooed over Allura and their potential relationship. Hunk and Pidge laughed and smiled, but the sympathetic glances didn’t go unnoticed. My worst fear was true, everyone knew. The shameful sin that I stored in a box in my brain was displayed on my sleeve for everyone to see. I acted as if I didn’t notice and fronted a sham of carelessness over the issue. The front couldn’t fool them.
Later that day Pidge invited me over, which wasn’t unusual but I should’ve seen the trap. The bait was so obvious, yet I still fell for it. We were sitting on her couch when I was caught.
“Are you okay?” She inquired.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” I hoped acting dumb would fool her, but Pidge is a genius who knows me better than myself sometimes.
“You’ve been distant today,” the look of pity was almost unbearable.
“I’m fine, Pidge,” I tried again looking away, but I was kidding myself at that point.
She was quiet and so I looked at her; she was calculating her next words like I would break at any moment if she said the wrong thing.
She found her solution, “I’m sorry about Lance.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I huffed harshly. I didn’t intend for the abrasive tone, but others knowing made it feel more real. I couldn’t gaslight myself into thinking I didn’t love him anymore.
“Keith, I’ve known you for three years. I know, okay. You don’t look at anyone else in the way you do him,” her voice almost whispered.
I felt the wetness of my eyes, but I didn’t allow myself to cry, “I love him,” I confessed quietly.
I felt her warm embrace around my shoulders but still refused to give in to my desire to break.
She rubbed circled into my back and I couldn’t stop the words from spewing out of my mouth, “I love him so much and I’m trying so hard to be happy for him. He deserves someone who makes him beam the way she does, but it’s so fucking hard Katie.”
“I know buddy, but you deserve to be happy too. It’s not selfish to be upset,” She reassures.
Her words don’t convince me. How could it not be selfish to want him to only be happy with me in his arms? I was disgusted with myself. I shouldn’t have cracked at the thought of Allura swaddled in his arms at night, them kissing in broad daylight showing off their affection, or whispering gentle terms of endearment in each other's ears.
“Can we just watch our movie?” I sighed.
Pidge nodded and grabbed the remote and we didn't repeat the conversation.
Days passed and I threw myself into school work studying for upcoming finals. It was a good distraction from my harboring feelings, aware that I was pushing my friends, specifically him when they asked to hang out. I was meticulous about my studies, which they knew, so the cover worked for a while. That was until Lance begged me to go to a party.
“Keith it’s the end of senior year, let’s have some fun!” He pleaded.
“I already told you I’m studying for our calculus final, which you should be too,” I remarked.
He dramatically moaned and threw his hands up, “You will be fine. I know that big brain of yours has all the equations stored up in there, so there is no way you’ll get anything below ninety.”
“I don’t like parties,” another simple fact.
“Please Keith, pretty please,” he said with a fake pout.
I am a weak man and he was my kryptonite. I fought but knew I would go in the end because my ability to say no dissolved in his presence. I was a sailor lured into the siren’s trap. If Lance asked me for the moon I would find a way to bring it to him and all the stars in our galaxy and still not be amazed because a million stars would look dull around him.
The party conducted like every standard high school party. An abundance of rowdy kids cramped into a small living room and kitchen with red solo cups full of whatever mixture of alcohol they could find. Music blared through someone’s speaker, but I couldn’t decipher the words. When I arrived Lance’s elbow had been propped up against the counter, the free hand holding a cup and he was talking to some girl. After that, I’d been avoiding Lance the entire party and drowning my sorrows in alcohol. If I couldn’t have the one person I wanted then I could at least be drunk.
I tucked into a corner for two reasons, one was to go unnoticed and the other was I didn’t think I would be able to stand on my own without tumbling over.
“Keithy!” I looked up from my cup at the high-pitched whine of my name.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that Lance found me, he had a knack for it, even when I was trying to hide from him. He wore light-washed jeans that hugged his thighs but flared around his calves and a tight white and blue short-sleeved shirt. His hair which had been lying flat when he arrived now had whispy strands sticking up. He was too pretty for an intoxicated teenager.
“What do you want Lance?” I barked. Can the temptress of fate just let me have one night?
“You’ve been sitting over here with some serious RBF for the past hour, a party is supposed to make you lighten up,” he rolled his eyes.
“It’s stuffy in here,” I said, hoping the excuse would be good enough for him to leave me alone.
It has the opposite effect as he snatches my hand and pulls me towards the door, “Let’s get some air then.”
He dragged me outside and we walked toward the edge of the yard, thankfully no one outside besides us. He sat on the ground and motioned for me to follow suit. I sat next to him and he leaned his head on my shoulder. My breath hitched and my muscles tensed, but he didn’t comment on it.
“Aren’t the stars beautiful?” He asked.
I glanced at him and saw his eyes turned to the sky, a faint flush from the alcohol spread across his cheeks, “Very,” I answered without looking up.
We stay stargazing for what feels like hours but is only around half an hour at most. I try to engrave every detail of his face into memory. I want to hold onto these feelings for as long as I can, imagining that it’s just me and him, for a moment he loves me in the same way and there is no one else holding his heart.
Every moment must come to an end, “We probably should get going,” He said and stood up, wiping the dirt off his jeans.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
He holds his hand out to help me stand. I grab it and get lifted off the ground, but also into his arms. I’m baffled at the sudden contact but hug back when my buzzed mind finally catches up. I felt something light on the top of my head, it felt like a light feathery kiss, but I convinced myself it was the alcohol playing tricks on me. I felt his point chin resting upon my head and we swayed both unable to stand straight.
“I wish you were a girl,” he whispered.
I froze at the unprompted comment. I was too drunk to stop the spiral of emotions that I had buried from floating to the surface. My eyes stung and I knew the tears were already falling.
“You and me, we make a good team,” he continued.
I silently begged for him to stop. I couldn’t take this anymore. What I did in a past life to deserve the tortuous words must have been cruel.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized.
“Why?” I croaked, even though I didn’t want the answer.
“For hurting you, if I could change things I would.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” yes I did.
“I know Keith.”
I pushed away from his clutch. He knew. I wanted to sprint, to get away from him as fast as possible, but my feet were frozen to the ground like they were cemented to the ground. The tears came faster and my vision blurred. He tried to step towards me, but I backed away.
“Please don’t,” I whispered, voice cracking, “I need to go.”
I took off trying to find somewhere to hide so I could crumble in solitude. The air had left my lungs and my breathing came in sharp inhales. I didn’t know how long I ran for but my legs burned with a fiery ache. I was blinded by my tears and bumped into someone else.
“Sorry,” I muttered and tried to take off again, but a hand grabbed my wrist.
“Keith,” the voice said softly and I registered who had a hold of me.
I couldn’t form words as I continued to try a catch the breath running away from me.
“Let’s find somewhere to sit,” they voice and my body went limp as they dragged me away.
I felt the rough wood bench beneath me and heard a voice coaching me to breathe in and out. It stabilized and I took in my surroundings. I ran to the nearby park, the moonlight illuminating the grassy clearing.
“Keith,” she tried again.
“I’m sorry for running into you and for this whole mess,” I said and wiped my tears on the sleeve of my jacket.
“Don’t worry, I’m glad I found you,” she smiled.
The desire to be furious was there, but I couldn’t be, not when she placed a hand on my shoulder and had a soft smile that carried her solicitous nature. The moon lit up her shimmering face. I understood what he saw in her, she was beautiful, both inside and out. Allura’s warm heart showed on the surface.
“Want to talk about it?” She implored.
A wet chuckle escaped my throat. What was I to say, that I loved him, but he was infatuated with her, and how much I hated them for it?
“I…” I trailed, my brain too mushed to find a lie to tell.
She filled my silence, “I’m sorry, Keith.”
“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately,” I tried to joke.
“He cares about you,” she states.
“Not in the way he does you,” I replied.
“No, but he’d still give me up before you,” she countered.
I didn’t believe her. I gazed at the pavement too humiliated to look her in the face, “I just wanted him to look at me, but he can’t take his eyes off you.”
“He still loves you Keith, maybe not in the same way, but you’re his best friend.”
“How did you even know?” I questioned.
“You aren’t as emotionally constipated as you think. You look at him like he holds the secrets of the universe in his hands and you smile more when he’s around. You save a special one for him.”
“That’s how he looks at you, you know?”
“I know,” she said.
I looked up again and noted her gaze out into the park’s clearing.
“Why do you always shoot him down?”
“I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“That’s a stupid reason,” I complained, “He really likes you, Allura. You guys should be happy together, you both are the most deserving people I know.”
Her eyes met mine, “You deserve it too.”
“I know.”
A lull of silence blanketed us. It didn’t feel awkward like I anticipated. The ache didn’t go away, but I had a duty to still fulfill for my friend and I took my job as wingman very seriously.
“Just say yes to him, I’ll be alright” I spoke.
She grabs my hand, “Thank you, Keith.”
She had no reason to thank me, but I understood the gesture. I was willing to be hurt to see them happy.
The next day Allura had gone up to Lance to ask him out. It was comical to see him sputter and blush, then whine about how he was going to ask her. I prayed my feelings would magically die, but I still loved him. The pain of seeing them together was soaked into my bones, forcing me to carry it around with every step. I could tell they tried to be mindful when I was around, so I put on a brave face and smiled for them. They were radiant together.
The hurt made a home in me. I was blissful for them, but I would trade the pain of loving him to never love again. That’s the number one rule of love. Don’t fall in love with your best friend, because when you look at them for too long or notice their considerate acts of care, you won’t be able to stop. Once you start loving them, you’ll never stop. Not even when they don’t love you.