You’ve always had this… thing with Elle. Not a thing-thing. Not a label it and claim it thing. Just something. A soft current, always pulling just beneath the surface of your friendship. Something you could ignore- until you couldn’t.

Elle’s fingers brush yours as she passes you a paintbrush, her eyes catching yours in a way that makes your chest ache. She smiles like she always does. Warm. Thoughtful. Friendly. Just friendly.

“You’re terrible at shading,”

She teases, nudging your foot with hers under the table. It’s light, playful, full of the same old rhythm you’ve had since the first day she let you sit next to her at lunch. Like always, you laugh. Like always, she looks away too quickly.

She talks about Tao sometimes. Not in a swoony, diary confession way. Just… casually. In passing. But you notice the way her voice shifts. The way she says his name like it’s something soft and treasured. And it shouldn’t hurt, right? Because you’re her best friend. You’re her safe space. Not her something more.

And maybe that’s all she’ll ever be to you. Someone you love but can’t let yourself want. Because she’s looking at Tao. And you’re looking at her. And the whole thing feels like a beautiful heartbreak just waiting to happen.