Winter, was it?

T H R E E

She came to my doorstep—in tears, again.

As the tears streamed down her delicate face, I wondered why she did this to herself. Why she still put hope in a relationship that was beyond repair.

I was aware of the inevitability of their parting. Still, I could not bring myself to tell Winter, in fear that she would leave me.

I gaze at her with eyes that see her as more than a friend. No. Perhaps I have never seen her as a friend. But she does. She has only ever regarded me as a friend.

Even now, as I stroke her hair the way I would a lover, she sees me as just a caring friend.

"Sorry for always bothering you... I'm sure you have other things you'd rather be doing than comforting me."

On the contrary, Winter, what you don't know is that there's nothing I'd rather do than gaze at you in all your beauty.

Even if seeing you like this tears me apart.

I pity you, Winter. You think you know the girl you're staining your lovely face for.

But you don't.

"It's ok. You don't need to apologize. She wouldn't want you to cry like this. Come on, put on that wonderful smile that she loves." That I love.

"After all, this is what friends are for, right?"

My smile could've been mistaken for glass at that moment—beautiful, but feeble and synthetic.

But, of course, Winter didn't notice.