𝘽𝙚𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙞𝙨 𝙚𝙣𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝

𝐗𝐗𝐈𝐕

"We're so weird." He joked between one piece of pancake and another.

We were now eating the third pancake and this meant that six were already gone and there were nine more left each. We would never have finished them, but in my case it was already a success because I was eating something. I liked eating with him and suddenly it didn't even seem like a problem anymore, suddenly my eyes went back to seeing food as appetizing and no longer disgusting.

"Why do you mean?"

"We wasted our time insulting each other and... now we seem like best friends."

"Yeah... life is weird, innit?"

"I can only agree with you." He smiled.

While I was eating and he was talking, there was a part of me that was focused on his words and the other part that couldn't help but think about how strange life actually was. I was grateful that he was my friend now. I liked having him around and his company was better than that of a hundred people. He listened to me, he understood me and always had time for me and... and it was perfect. Everything was perfect, and yet there was something in me that made me feel bad at the thought of being friends with him, something, like a little voice, that repeatedly told me that all of this was wrong. That little voice oppressed me, it gave me anxiety and I just wanted it to disappear and for it to stop being part of me.

I needed his friendship, I needed him because, even if I would never admit it, he made me smile, he made me laugh and I was simply happy with him around me.

"So basically- What's going on?" He asked suddenly and only then did I realize that he had stopped talking.

"I am sorry."

"Don't worry," he reassured me, filling our plates with two more pancakes, "but I'm really curious to know what's going on in your head."

"You remind me a lot of Oliver, you know?" His eyes lit up as soon as I mentioned his name. He liked it when I talked about him because Oliver, unfortunately, was my past and Andy would spend hours and hours listening to me talk about my childhood and my friendship with Oliver. I had told him everything, in detail, all the smallest details and... he knew everything as if he had experienced every story I told personally, firsthand. Even though it still hurt to say his name out loud, on the other hand it was good for me to talk about it with him for the simple reason that he was the one listening.

"It makes me feel special to know that I remind you of someone who was and still is so important to you." He admitted with tears in his eyes. He would say it was the pregnancy hormones playing tricks on his emotions, but the truth was that he had a big heart and felt harder than many people we knew.

"You are special." And the conversation ended here, he didn't dare go any further, ask questions that he was afraid might be invasive and I appreciated it. I appreciated that in any case I didn't have the strength in me to talk about Oliver, our relationship and how much I loved him, perhaps more than I should have.