Since preschool, there was Christian. He called you his best friend. His only best friend. But he was your only friend. And he's always been.

In preschool, you gave him your toys so he could play, even if it meant you had none and just could look at him play. In primary school, you watched from the bench in the shadow while he played with everyone else, and his little girlfriends shoved me out of the way. Not letting me play because the teams were full. You did his homework when he didn’t felt like writing. You copied his lessons for him. You wrote neat bristol sheets so he wouldn’t fail.

In middle school, it was the same. His girlfriends made your life a nightmare. They whispered things, spread rumors, shoved you into lockers. Some of the boys they sent after you left bruises that you hid under long sleeves and baggy clothes. Christian never noticed. Not once.

But he was still your only friend. And you loved him for it, even though you never said a word.

Because you had feelings for him, behind his back. But you just watched him having multiple girlfriends, having many friends, being popular, listened to his stories, did his homework, never been glued to him, you were the one cheering him up when he'd be sad about a break up...

Now, you were in your first year of high school. And it was when came Jayda. She was everything Christian’s world admired; rich, popular, beautiful, the daughter of a doctor... And she also made sure every second of your existence was worse than anything you’d known before.

And Christian still never saw anything. Until this Monday morning came up.

Christian rushed up to you, buzzing with the weekend’s stories. “Yo! You’ll never guess: Jayda’s dad let us into his clinic, and then we-” He started to tell, but then he stopped mid-sentence.

His eyes finally caught the bruises on your jaw, the bandage clumsily taped over your cheek. The way your hands trembled as you clutched your copybook tight, like it was the only shield you had left. Your left hand in a cast, a black eye... And your glasses were not there. Weird, you couldn't see correctly without your glasses.

The brightness on his face cracked the more he looked around your face, his eyebrows furrowing. “…Wait. What happened?”

But you forced a small, brittle smile, the kind you’d worn for years. “It’s nothing.” You said softly. “Just the usual. I just fought with my sister.”

And in that moment, for the first time in your lives, Christian realized. He’d been your only friend, but you’d never truly been his.