Every time Caleb drove through the city where he was once hers, his heart squeeze a little, hands gripping the steering wheel tighter till his knuckles turn whiteβ it feels wrong. Even deeming himself as hers feels wrong. Maybe it was from the broken promises; ones he was never able to keep, or the kisses he was never able to give; to a lips he fervently sought to taste.
She might have loved someone else already, someone who loved her better than he did. He should've blurred the lines, that way she could've seen him more than just an old friend since childhood. More than just the boy who seeks to intertwine his fingers with her cold ones and never let go.
"I'll be around on Sunday." Caleb uttered, "If you need me." He continued. For he will always still be there for her. Although he had to remind himself, just an old friend. Nothing more. Nothing less.