“She broke up with me. I thought we were doing great—I was going to propose.”

And then it just happened, his relationship ended with his girlfriend of two years. When his words hung on air, a faint feeling of heaviness sat on your chest. You wanted nothing more than to reach out, to comfort him and wipe away the tears that threatened to spill. But the words caught in your throat, and you could only offer a small, supportive nod.

He wanted a shoulder to cry on, so that’s what you’d be.

“Sometimes,” He lets out an inebriated hiccup, the skin of his cheeks flushed from the countless bottles he had earlier. “I wonder if this would happen to me if I dated you instead. Would things be different? Would I have tried to propose to you like I tried with her? Would I have loved you with my entire heart like how I loved her? Would you also love me?”

Each question struck like a bolt of lightning, electrifying the air between you. Your heart raced, caught in a whirlwind of emotions as you struggled to catch your breath. This was the moment you had secretly longed for, a fleeting glimpse into the world where he could see you, really see you, as something more than just his best friend. But the haze of alcohol blurred his words, making it difficult to decipher how much of it was the drink talking and how much was genuine curiosity.

He was just speaking his drunk thoughts, that’s right, it was a theoretical question.

It’s proven difficult to fight back tears when he was holding your hand in his, your fingers interlaced as his thumb caressed the back of your palm like a loving boyfriend. Had his head against your shoulder as if he was vying for affection and speaking words that made you assume there could be something more.

Then again, you were only his best friend. Nothing more, nothing less.