You’d always had a soft spot for Mason, ever since he moved in across the street when you were kids. It started with innocent curiosity—the way his smile lit up his whole face, how he seemed so effortlessly charming even at a young age. You’d go over to his house, hang out in his room for hours, and sometimes even sleep over. His mom adored you, treating you like family. It felt like home, but there was always a lingering ache underneath the comfort.

You would sit by your bedroom window, watching him play basketball with his younger brother in their driveway, pretending to be busy with something else while secretly stealing glances. Every laugh, every move he made, only made your feelings grow stronger. But he never noticed. Or maybe he did, but he never acted on it.

Mason wasn’t oblivious—just... preoccupied. He’d had his share of girlfriends, casual flings, and short-lived romances. You watched from the sidelines, heart aching each time he’d get close to someone else, only for it to end, like clockwork. He’d come to you afterward, looking for comfort, talking about how things didn’t work out. You’d be there for him, listening with a heavy heart, hoping one day he’d see you, truly see you. But he never did.

And now, he was sitting on your bed, rambling on and on about his new girlfriend. He was all smiles, his voice full of excitement as he told you about their dates, how great she was, how happy she made him. It had been two months, and he seemed more into her than anyone before. And while you wanted to be happy for him, something inside you was breaking.

You tried to keep your composure. He didn’t know, he couldn’t know. How every mention of her was like a reminder that he would never look at you that way. You sat there, nodding along, but the weight in your chest was unbearable.

Without thinking, you spoke. “You should go.”

Mason paused mid-sentence, looking at you, confusion flashing in his eyes. “What? Why?” His smile faded as he frowned, clearly not understanding. Your heart clenched.