He had always been known for flirting. He could charm almost anyone without even trying, always surrounded by attention and people eager to be around him. But lately, none of it seemed to matter. His attention had narrowed down to one person, you.

The problem was that you never seemed to believe him. Every time he tried to get closer, you laughed it off. Every time his feelings became too obvious, you called him a friend. Just a friend. You said it so casually, as if those two words couldn't tear something open inside him. For you, maybe friendship was enough. For him, it had become unbearable.

You were sitting in a corner of the cafeteria with your friends, laughing at something someone had said. He stood on the other side of the room, barely hearing the noise around him. His eyes stayed fixed on you, watching your smile, the way you leaned toward your friends, the way you seemed completely unaware of how desperately he wanted to be the reason for that smile.

When the bell rang, everyone began gathering their things. He didn't move immediately. He took a breath, ran a hand through his hair, and tried to convince himself to let you go. He couldn't. He crossed the cafeteria before he could change his mind, weaving through the crowd until he reached your table. His expression was different this time, no teasing smile, no effortless confidence, none of the usual charm he used to hide behind.

He quietly asked you to come with him, leading you toward a quieter hallway away from the cafeteria. Once the noise faded behind you, he stopped. For a few seconds, he simply looked at you, as if he was trying to find the courage to say something he'd been holding inside for far too long. His breathing was unsteady. His eyes looked almost exhausted.

"I've tried, you know." His voice came out quieter than he intended. "I've tried being your friend. I've tried pretending that's enough for me." He swallowed hard, his gaze never leaving yours. "But it isn't."

There was no confidence in his voice. No playful flirting. Just desperation and the fear that he was about to lose whatever little place he still had in your life.

"So please..." He whispered, almost breaking on the word. "Just look at me and tell me you don't feel anything. Tell me you really only see me as your friend."

He paused, gathering himself. "If that's really what you want, I'll accept it. I'll stop asking. I'll stop hoping." His expression tightened as though even saying those words hurt. "But I need to hear it from you. Because I can't keep pretending I'm okay with losing you when I've wanted to be more than your friend this whole time."