"Between friends, unspoken feelings can feel like a fragile thread pulled taut; one denies its existence while the other hides behind its delicate weave, both yearning for the courage to unravel what lies beneath."
Ian and Julian, long-time best fri...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Why couldn't you just stay with me?
"Your eyes," I whispered, "as deep as the ocean's embrace, as dreamy as a starry night's sigh, as delicate as lotus petals unfolding, as mesmerizing as the first light of dawn, as serene as morning dew resting on untouched leaves... and yet, as innocent as a child's laughter."
The pull I feel isn't some poetic string dragging at my heart—it's more like a gut punch. Sudden. Heavy. Raw. There's this gnawing in my chest, something deep and unfamiliar yet familiar.
I hate it.
I really hate it.
It's the kind of feeling you can't shake, no matter how much you distract yourself, like an itch you can't scratch. And trust me, I've tried everything to ignore it.
It sits there, buzzing beneath my ribs, a hollow ache that I possibly can't outrun. Not physically, not mentally. It's like a massive weight that presses into me, but there's no clear way to push it off.
Frustrating as hell.
I'm not the kind of guy to sit around and get all wrapped up in my feelings—never have been. Self-reflection? Digging deep into emotions? Yeah, no thanks. That's not really my thing. Unless... well, unless it's about him. It's always about him. So, I guess, in the end, I do it anyway, but only for him.
But this? Whatever this is—it's something else entirely. I've dealt with heartbreak before—plenty of it. Hell, even when Ian broke me, I got through it. But this... this is different. There's this sharp, bitter edge to it, like it's carved out a new kind of ache. One I wasn't ready for.
I fucking hate it.
It's not something I can just joke my way out of or shove into a corner and forget. It's sharp and stubborn, carving its way through me like I've lost something I never even truly had. Which is absurd, right? How can you miss something that wasn't even yours to begin with?
Yet here I am, stuck with this nagging ache in the pit of my stomach that rises like a bad case of nausea, but it doesn't actually go anywhere. No relief. No escape. It just builds and builds, unrelenting. I tell myself to snap out of it, to stop being so... whatever this is. But my thoughts keep circling back to...
Him. Seriously, fuck him.
Of all the people to get under my skin, of course, it's him. I can't stop replaying that look in his eyes—the way he tilted his head like I was the biggest idiot in the world. And that sneer? Like I'd said something so unbearably stupid it physically offended him. Was it really that bad? It wasn't even that bad. And yet, if looks could kill, I'd be a smudge of ashes on the floor right now.
