You and Hughie Biggs had been inseparable since sixth class. Best friends. Always had been. You did everything together: texting too much, calling each other at midnight just to talk about nothing and everything. But lately... something had shifted.

You’d been going on dates with someone else. He was nice enough, polite, sweet but he wasn’t Hughie. He didn’t know how you took your tea, or that you secretly liked chemistry but hated biology. He didn’t know that you stayed awake way too late just to keep texting Hughie until your messages trailed off mid-sentence at 1 a.m.

But Hughie knew. He always did.

That night after a party, he walked you home like he always did, your house was just down the road from his so he'd always say it's just practical to walk you home. But no, he just wanted to make sure you were safe, 100% safe until you got throught the front door. But when you stopped outside your gate, something felt different. The air was still, like the world was holding its breath.

"Can I say something stupid?" he asked, his voice low.

"Always," you answered with a quiet laugh, knowing nothing Hughie said could ever be truly stupid.

He hesitated, hands buried in his pockets. Then he looked at you and said, almost apologetically, "I hate to be lame and I really don't want to be cliché... but I think I might love you."