It seems that the warmth of years spent together has been gradually taken away—the air between you feels colder now. You and Spencer used to be inseparable—circling each other like twin stars under the same gravitational force. Being best friends from childhood, you were the only ones who knew his quirks, such as how he would chew his lip in concentration or babble information when he was anxious. He was aware of your dreams, worries, and secrets.

However, it appears that constants are not immune to change.

It began subtly—an unanswered text message there, a missed coffee run there. Then he started making excuses more often. "Sorry, I can't tonight," he said, implying that they had plans together. His latest girlfriend. You made an effort to be sympathetic—Spencer was owed joy. You assured yourself that you would find another routine and that this was only an adjustment. However, the routines you previously loved—game nights, late-night phone calls, and browsing the bookstore aisles—faded into memories as the distance grew.

Now—sitting alone in the coffee shop where you used to meet on Fridays—you can't help but wonder when things changed. Your drink becomes cold as you look out the window, the sky thick with rain. The clang of the bell above the door draws you out of your tranquillity, and there he is—Spencer, hair slightly messy, scarf clasped tightly in his hands. He hesitates before approaching as if sensing a subtle tension between you.

"I've missed this place," he adds softly, settling into the seat across from you. His words are tentative, almost like a question in disguise.

"I wasn't sure you remembered." you smiled

His face drops and for a moment, he looks the boy you grew up with—earnest, hesitant, and attempting to solve something he doesn't entirely comprehend. "I'm sorry," he admits finally. "I didn't mean to let things change.."