Just Be Friends

“I still love you, I don’t want to be apart from you, but I have to tell you…”

Even before he spoke, I knew what he was going to say.

Our relationship had a head start, the time we spent as friends could never be replaced. I met him at the start of our Sophomore Year in high school; his smile took my breath away on sight. He was perfect in every way imaginable: a shy, bubbly and adorable personality, short, chocolate brown hair with matching eyes, a small build and a laugh like no other. He was the sweetest guy I’ve ever met, and since that day at the start of our tenth grade year, we became fast friends. When he was crying, I’d turn his tears to laughter. When he was laughing, I’d cause the tears in his eyes. Halfway through our tenth grade year, through a jumbled string of words, I asked him to be my boyfriend. And he said yes.

Festivals, carnivals, movies, anything you could name for as a perfect date, I took him there. The shine in his eyes and the smile on his lips were enough for me to be happy. I wanted to give him everything and more – he was my everything. Even then, I guess that was ridiculous. I wasn’t his everything.

Eleventh grade year, our arguments turned sour. We pulled and picked things from our past to hurt one another, every little thing we did wrong was dug up from its forgotten grave. The whole year was a struggle for our relationship but as the seasons changed, our hearts changed with them. Our petty arguments were burned to ashes, the tears in our eyes were wiped off by our hands, together, and we moved forward. Our senior year, in the alley that we often took as a shortcut to our homes, I had bought him and I fifty-cent engagement rings from a small vending machine in a corner store. He laughed as I got down on one knee, taking his hand in mine. I laughed too, our laughter echoing down the alley. I placed the cheap ring on his slender finger, kissing the top of his hand. When I stood up, he embraced me tightly. I hugged him, lifting him off the ground and spinning him around. The rest of the way home we held hands, shy glances and smiles adorning our features.

On four-year anniversary, I proposed to him properly. Suit and tie, flowers, chocolates along with silver band that fit just right on his ring finger in a small lavender ring box. Happily in love is what I’d thought we would be…but why are we like this?

He stood across from me, the silver band in his palm. Shocked, I looked up at him and after a while, he finally met my gaze. He told me everything, ending with, “No matter what we do, life is just like that.” I felt a tear roll down my left cheek, his expression from one of wary to concern. He bit his lip, closing his eyes and looking away. I felt everything he said, our relationship dulling, fading to a point of never returning to where we once were. There was no point in us staying together anymore.

I held out my hand, my fingers picking up the silver band that burned in my fingertips. When I took it from him, he took in a deep breath before saying his final farewell.

“Goodbye, my sweetheart, it’s over.” He turned to leave, his retreating figure growing smaller with each step he took. The person I found so captivating fading in my blurred vision. I let the ring slip from my hands and heard it clink! to the ground. I covered my eyes my hands, letting out a flow of tears in a hoarse voice. Eyes closed, I could see his smiling face and the memories we had together played in reel. I had the best wishes for us, but I guess that wasn’t enough.The ring on my finger suddenly felt like a heavy burden.