Oneshots and Drabbles

Not Mine

     "Hey, idiot, pick up my calls." I angrily hang up and throw my phone onto the small couch.

Why isn't he picking up my calls? He should be back home from his date by now. Is he ignoring me?

I'll show him.

Grabbing my satchel, I stuff my phone in and sling it over my head. I yank my front door shut and lock it with half a mind, the other imagining all the ways I'm going to knock some sense into the doofus's head. Some best friend he is.

Only after pulling my car door open do I realize that it's raining, but it's too late now to get an umbrella. Sighing, I turn the engine on with slick hands and pull out onto the road, heading for the main road that leads to his house.

I shouldn't be doing this, I know. A normal friend would just leave a few calls and then stay home, maybe checking up the next day. But... I'm worried. It's late, and Sylvan always picks up.

Halfway to his house, I hear my phone buzz from within the satchel. At the stoplight, I quickly pull it out and read through the messages, hoping they're from him.

Hey, could you come pick me up? I'm in front of the restaurant.

Grumbling, yet slightly relieved, I toss it back onto the seat and swerve right, heading toward where he said his date would be.

About half an hour later, I arrive in front of the small restaurant—whose lights are closed and the door firmly shut. What?

Panicking, I look around the street and reach for my door handle, but sighing when I see his figure emerge from under the shop's small striped awning at last. I frown when I realize he's been standing in the rain for quite a while.

His small frame shuffles over and he pulls my car door open, sliding inside and dropping onto the seat with a thump.

I don't even care that he's gotten my whole seat wet with cold rainwater. "Why didn't you pick up my calls?!"

Head low, he fiddles with his hands. "I'm sorry."

My anger quickly subsides when I see his somber expression and I feel a twinge in my chest. "What happened? Syl, what's wrong?"

He sighs, low and dull, and hides his face behind his drenched dark hair. "Can you take me home?"

I lower my brows to his deflection, wanting to shake an answer out of him, but nod nonetheless.

It's a silent ride to his house, and my heart silently hammers the whole way. What could have happened? Despite myself, I feel a lick of resentment toward his date, more than I already do, for leaving him in this state.

I pull into his driveway and shut off the engine.

"Thanks. I'll be heading—"

"Nuh-uh, I don't think so." He rolls his eyes in response, but I can tell by his little smile he expected me to pester him about it.

We head in together. Flicking on the small light of the hallway, I push him to his room and force him to put on some dry clothes. I wait outside, weary of what he might tell me about his date. He emerges in a large sweater and loose pants, looking like himself again. Finally, I drag him to the sofa and fold my arms, not caring to turn on any more lights than just the lamp beside us.

"Why didn't you answer my calls?" I get now that he might've been a little preoccupied, but I mainly keep asking in case...well in case there's a reason other than his girlfriend that kept him from me.

"Um..." He plays with the hem of his sweater, weaving fingers through the woven fabric. "I didn't want to seem distracted, you know? She already feels like...like I don't care about her, and I wanted to show that I do."

I hear my heart drop, just a little.

Swallowing, I press my lips together. "But you do care about her. Everyone knows that. Doesn't she know how much you—" I pause for a breath "—love her?"

It's not you! I want to yell. It's her! It's not your fault. You're perfect, can't you see? Instead, though, I get up and pull a towel out of the hall closet.

Despite my intentions, my words seem to wound him further. He drops his head and runs delicate fingers through his hair.

"Anyways, why were you standing in the rain? You're going to get sick, idiot, and then I'll have to take care of you like always."

I know I should just toss him the towel, but I can't bring myself to do it. I can't stop myself from worrying all the time, and I just can't help being there for him, no matter how much it hurts.

I silently press the towel to his damp hair and start scrubbing down his head. Just to tease him, I press down until I know it hurts and start swinging his head in all sorts of directions.

"Hey—Ow! Stop!" A small chuckle falls from his mouth as he shoves my hands off, and I smile at the fleeting look of joy.

I love that look. He should always smile like that.

The expression melts from my face, though, when I remember that his girlfriend was the one who picked him up. She was the one who left him in the rain. I clutch the towel in balled fists.

"Sylvan, what happened? Why did she leave you in the rain?"

He blinks up at me, dark lashes gilded in the gold of the lamp. "Well...don't be mad, but she...sort of drove off when we had a little argument."

I scoff loudly. "Don't be mad? She knew she was your ride home! How could she leave you like that?!"

"Zee, it's not her fault. I—I shouldn't have started an argument. I deserved that."

If I could bring myself to do it, I would smack him right now. It's the dumbest thing I've ever heard, that it's his fault for any of this.

And then—a sniffle. It was not a cold sniffle.

"Oh no, don't—don't cry."

"I'm not crying," he says, crying. I quickly engulf him in a hug, feeling my heart sink lower as he drops his head onto my shoulder. "I j-just need to be better. I love her and I know she loves me, so I just need to focus on that."

Now was not the time. Now was not the time to tell him he deserved far better than that wench, that he was absolutely perfect and that I can't stand the thought of him with someone else when I am right here. That I wasn't happy for him, that every time I saw him, with his bright eyes and stupid grin, I fell harder and my chest hurt so bad that I thought I would pass out. It wasn't the time to tell him I love him, and his smile, and his eyes, and his idiotic, immature mind.

So instead I stroke his back and quietly hold him. Like always.

"Syl," I sigh defeatedly, "it's not your fault. Relationships are hard. And...I'm always here, too, okay?"

He nods, cheek softly brushing my neck. "I know, thanks. Ro and I will be—" a hiccup "—we'll be okay."

I push him off.

"Zee?"

"Sorry, Syl. I'm just..." I plaster a great big smile on, although he frowns in confusion. Clearly, I'm not doing a great job of looking happy. "It's nothing. You two will be just fine, so don't worry about it." I should try to put on a better act, but I know he'll never suspect my feelings. He's too precious for that.

Which is exactly why I shouldn't be here, at midnight, comforting him.

Tousling his already poofy hair, I stand up to leave. To my surprise, Sylvan grabs my hand, a soft look on his face. "Could you...maybe stay? I feel a little lonely..."

Yes, please.

"No, I can't. Don't be such a baby." I chuckle and gently pull my hand out of his warm grasp. "Everything will be fine, you'll see."

I search his eyes, desperate to find something more than just loneliness and longing for company.

Nothing but adoring friendship.

I smile again, softly, as my heart shatters into smaller pieces. "Goodnight, Syl. Get some sleep."

With that, I head out of his cozy home and back out into the rain. I wish I could stay, but it's not my place. He's just not mine.