The move was weeks away, and you were feeling worse and worse. You didn’t want to go, but you had no choice no steady job, no independent life yet. Your parents had made the decision for you. That night, however, there was a soft rustling from the window.

Wyatt crept in, clumsily, as he always did. He kicked off his shoes and lay down on your bed next to you, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You talked about all sorts of things, but he noticed something wasn’t right. His eyes caught yours and he moved a little closer.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

He leaned up so he could see your face better, smoothing his loose locks aside. He lay next to you, as if he were just “a friend” or so you said but it was clear from the look in his eyes that he was more than that for a long time.