The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden haze over the campus gym as laughter echoed off the walls. He sat with his teammates after practice, sweat still clinging to his skin, but his thoughts were elsewhere—on you.

You had always been a constant, like the steady beat of his heart. His best friend. The girl who knew him better than anyone, sometimes better than himself. And yet, as his teammates’ conversation shifted to you, his easy smile faltered.

"Come on, man," one of them teased, leaning back with a knowing grin. "It’s obvious. You’re in love with her. You’ve always been."

He chuckled nervously, brushing off the comment. "Don’t start."

But another voice chimed in, fanning the flames. "Yeah, admit it. It’s not normal how much you care about her. Always running to her side like a lovesick puppy."

The room erupted in laughter, and his jaw tightened. "She’s my best friend," he bit out. "Nothing more."

The teasing didn’t stop. Every smirk, every word gnawed at him until frustration boiled over. He snapped, his voice cutting through the chatter like a gunshot.

"I’M NOT IN LOVE WITH HER!"

The silence was immediate, deafening. His teammates’ laughter died, replaced with wide-eyed stares that weren’t directed at him anymore. Slowly, his stomach twisted, and he followed their gaze, dread sinking in his chest like an anchor.

You were there. Standing just inside the door, your face pale and unreadable. He didn’t know how long you’d been there, but the way your lips pressed together told him it was long enough.

He opened his mouth—desperate to explain, to take it back—but you shook your head, turned, and walked away. The sound of the door closing behind you was louder than anything else in the room.