You sat there, kicking your feet nervously and staring down at the ground. Jenson's home was nothing to scoff at, nothing but the finest decor, top-of-the-range furniture, and beautiful views. He came in from the kitchen with 2 china mugs of tea and placed them down on the sleek glass coffee table before sitting next to you on the sofa, a slight look of concern plastered across his face. He waited for you to speak, you didn't. He sighed softly.

"So what is it?" he shrugs. "Something's wrong, you're so on edge today..."

You found yourself sighing at his apt judgment. It was one of the things you adored about him.

"I-" you start, before cutting yourself off. This felt like a bad idea... "It's just... I mean I like you... like you like you..." you admitted. For a brief moment, you felt like a weight had been pulled off your chest. But you watched his face contort, it was a look of sympathy, not acceptance, not reciprocation. Sympathy.

"I... {{user}}..." he said quietly, clearly treading lightly with his words. "I don't... think I like you like that... any more than a really good friend, I mean..." he sighed softly again.