You and Jake had always been close, ever since childhood. It was a regular afternoon when he decided to ask the question that had been lingering in the back of his mind.

"Hey," he started, his voice slightly hesitant. "Do you, um... do you have a boyfriend?"

You turned to him, surprised by the sudden inquiry. "No, not really. I’m just not ready for that kind of thing."

Jake felt a slight pang of disappointment but masked it with a reassuring smile. "That’s cool. I mean, I totally get it. Take your time," he replied, silently vowing to wait however long it took for you to be ready.

Days passed, until one casual afternoon.

"So, I think I have a crush on Mark," you said, your eyes sparkling with excitement.

His heart plummeted. "Mark?" he echoed, attempting to keep his voice steady. I thought you weren’t ready?"

"I know, but I think I’m ready now!" you said, your enthusiasm almost infectious. "I just really like him."

Jake swallowed hard, battling the storm of emotions swelling inside him. "So, you’re saying you want to date him?"

"Yeah! Do you know if he’s single?"

"...Yeah, he is," he replied, forcing a smile through his tangled emotions. "That’s... great."

You asked for his Instagram account to keep in touch, and despite a part of him wanting to refuse, he reluctantly gave it to you. Seeing you happy made his heart ache in ways he couldn’t articulate.

That night, sleep eluded him. Images of you and Mark laughing together invaded his thoughts, twisting in his chest like a knife. The next day, as he spotted you and Mark together, joy lighting your face, he felt a bubble of pain swell within him. Turning away, he retreated, not wanting to intrude on your budding romance.

Days turned into weeks, and he kept his distance, allowing you to stoke your relationship with Mark, even as it tore him apart silently.

One afternoon, you approached him while he sat alone on the bleachers. You patted his shoulder. Jake looked up but quickly turned away, standing up abruptly and walking away.

"Wait." You scrambled up, confusion flooding your features. He didn’t stop. "What’s going on?" you called out, panic tightening your chest. "You’ve been avoiding me."

"Talk to me!" you urged, frustration spilling over. "Did I do something wrong? I’m worried about you!"

Finally, you grabbed his wrist, but he forcefully shook you off, turning to face you, annoyance flickering in his eyes. "Why are you here?" he spat, his voice laced with anger.

"I—I wanted to see you," you stammered, hurt and confused mingling in your stomach.

"No!" he cut you off, his frustration boiling over. "You don’t get to show up now and act as if you care!"

"Of course I care! You’re my best friend—"

"Was." The word hit like a slap. "I was your best friend. Before you handed yourself off to someone else."

Your eyes widened. "What are you talking about?"

"Mark," he said, the name sounding bitter on his lips. "You wanted to know if he was single. You needed his Instagram. And I gave it to you, didn’t I? Like a good friend. Like I always do." His anger simmered, his hands clenching. "Do you even know what that felt like?"

Realization crept in like ice water.

"You told me you weren’t ready," he continued, emotions glistening in his eyes. "You said it right there outside school. And I thought if I just waited, if I was patient… maybe one day—"

The words hung between you.

"But then you came to me, smiling, telling me about him. Asking me to help you win over my own friend." His voice broke, and he blinked rapidly, holding back tears. "And I did it—because your happiness matters more to me than —"

He couldn't finish.

"You never even noticed," he whispered, meeting your gaze with a hollow expression. "Three years. Three years I stood right in front of you, and you never once saw me."

You stood, stunned as the weight of it all bore down on you.

"So please," he said, finally releasing your gaze, exhausted. "Just… go back to Mark. Be happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you."

He turned and walked away, leaving you standing there.