We Were Friends.

5. We Were Friends.

It had been days since he had gone to his usual spot. He hadn't seen her in days, and he didn't know how to feel about it.

No, he didn't miss her presence these last couple of days. She was a nuisance and just made his life hard nowadays.

But he did miss her. Even if she annoyed him, also if all she did was nonsense, he still missed her presence. The same way he had lost her all those months ago, but he had learned how to turn that feeling into hatred. And now he had to deal with it again, and he wasn't pleased about it.

He looked over his shoulder to his phone. It was sitting on his desk, sitting silently. He stood up and went to it, immediately unlocking it and heading to his pictures. He stopped himself before he could open the app. Locked his phone and placed it face down on his desk once again. He sighed angrily.

"I fucking hate this."

He turned, trying hard to ignore his urge to go through the album he had dedicated to their pictures.

He walked out of his room and headed to his kitchen, opened a drawer, and pulled out his cigarettes. He had stopped smoking for months, but that accomplishment was about to go down the drain because, as of now, he needed one badly. He opened his cigarette box and pulled one out. He went outside to his backyard and lit it.

He sighed in relief as soon as he was able to inhale it.

"She's gonna be the death of me." He mumbles to himself as he kicked some rocks in front of him.

After a couple of minutes, he dropped his cigarette and stepped on it before he headed back inside. He went upstairs and grabbed his phone before plotting on his bed. He unlocked his phone.

The gallery was open, his finger hovered over to his home button, about to push it so he wouldn't have to go through those photos. He tried to resist it, but he couldn't. He went through his albums, not that there were many, and found their album. He clicked on it, and in an instant, hundreds of photos appeared. Many pictures of her. A couple of him and plenty of them two together. He pressed on the first one.

It was a picture of him on the bus. She had taken it; he was laughing in the image while laying his head on her lap. His headphones were dangling from his fingers.

He went to the second picture, also taken that same day. This time he was reaching up to his phone.

He went to the third one. This time it was a picture of her. She was covered in snowflakes. It was winter, and it had started snowing that day. She had an annoyed expression on her face as she attempted to flick the snow off her. They had been walking home from the bus stop, and she was aggravated at the snow, well not even the storm, she was exasperated with herself that day.

The fourth picture was a picture of the two of them hugging and smiling at the camera. This time it was sunny in the film.

The next couple of pictures were pictures of her again, this time in the library, where they would hang out while she worked on essays. He would annoy her by messing with her hair and regularly taking pictures.

He went through so many pictures and stopped on one he cherished utterly.

It was a picture of him kissing her forehead; she looked ecstatic and was blushing. The image was mainly focused on her. They had celebrated his birthday, and she had bought him a cake, she was dressed up nicely, and to him, she looked beautiful, but he didn't let her know that. He just kept telling her she didn't have to buy him a cake. 

She was stubborn and insisted, and of course, he couldn't and didn't stop her.

The last picture was a picture of the two of them smiling at the camera. Both outside her house. That night he had danced with her outside her home. His friends were in the car, waiting while he danced with her next to the vehicle. Music playing. She was happy that night, she hugged him and told him she would text him. Then waved goodbye to his friends as she headed inside. He waited to make sure she was inside before leaving.

He sighed in anger. He threw his phone across the room and got off his bed. He walked down to his front door and left his house. The chilly air was piercing him as he walked away from his home.