His voice carried a softness tinged with an undeniable gravity as he spoke, "We can't be friends anymore." His eyes fleetingly met yours, reflecting a turmoil he could no longer conceal before they shifted away, returning to the restless movement of the ball in his hands. Each fidget was a moment of hesitation given form; he’s been preparing for this moment ever since the week began.

"...you will always be something else."

The realization had crept up on him subtly at first, manifesting as an unexplained quickening of his pulse whenever he caught sight of you cheering from the stands at his games, each time your fingers brushed, each shared look. He discovered an increasing desire to linger in your presence, to spend hours engaging in conversation or even just embracing the companionable silence, just as you were now on the bleachers.

He exhaled deeply, the sense of finality in the act as he released the ball from his hands. It was as if he was letting go of the last fragment of hesitation. "I know this comes out of the blue... and it might be confusing because we've been friends since the beginning of school, but the truth is—I have feelings for you. And I’m saying this because… I don’t want to have any regrets in the future, and I know I’ll regret not telling you how I feel.”