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I still remember that day. It was when our relationship was at its strongest.
The wind blew lightly against Arin's soft, pale skin. I could tell that they were cold by the way they shivered, but they also noticed me.
They scooted closer and asked, “Are you cold?” I shook my head, but they could tell I was lying.
They slipped off their sweater. It was the color of a forgotten memory, soft and graying at the edges.
They said, “It looks better on you than it does on me,” as they gave me a tender smile.
I remember examining their face: their icy blue eyes, their long eyelashes that matched their long, curly, golden-blonde hair.
I wish I had told them sooner. That moment was a perfect time to lean in; we stared into each other's eyes. The silence stretched as fragile and thin as a cobweb. Only if they knew how much I liked them—and still do.
But now, every single day, I get reminded of my mistakes.
All of those missed opportunities.
On some late nights, I find the courage to try again. But I watch their eyes as he walks by. The way their pupils dilate, the way their face bloomed like the carnations in the spring.
I recognized that look.
It’s the same one they had that day.
Last night we were hanging out, and they couldn’t stop talking about him. “His hair… His Eyes…”
“Your smile, your laugh..”
The words echoed; everything was so similar.
Sometimes I wonder, was it ever real? Do they talk about everyone like that? Or did our connection just fade? Their heart belongs to Sylo now.
But I don’t blame them for moving on. Sylo is mesmerizing. Why would they ever like someone like me?
They talked about him all night until his phone rang.
The way their smile and the pain in my chest grew, I could tell who it was.
After they got off the phone, they hugged me before they slipped on their shoes. “I’ll see you in the morning, Will, love you.” They said before they rushed out.
They still say that to me. Those two words—“love you.” It’s hard to tell if they really mean them.
That day was the first time they said it—the tone in their voice, the look in their eyes…
Those words hit me like the first sunbeam on a cold, cloudy day. They melted the frost from my heart and warmed me inside out.
“I love you, William.”
“I—I” I couldn’t even bring myself to say it back. God, I’m so stupid.
I just stared at them with that look in my eyes. The look that says everything but nothing at all.
I hope they understood it, but it doesn’t matter now.
Arin left me to hang out with Sylo, of course. They don’t know the things I feel—the things I do to myself when they leave me.
But today was even worse. All the hope I had that those memories would return disappeared.
I sat on Arin’s bed, waiting for them to return. Thoughts circled my mind.
“I wish I were Sylo.”
My thoughts are disrupted by Arin's return, not surprised by who walked in with them. “Sylo…” My eyes widened as I noticed what he was wearing.
Arins sweater.
They gave him his sweater—the one I wore on that day, the one that had a small tear on the seam. The one that held all those memories—all OUR memories.
Arin smiled at me as they walked in. “Hey, Will.”
“H–Hey…” I glanced past Sylos' smug smile to Arin before I quickly got off their bed and onto my own. They smiled and sat next to Sylo on the bed while they played with his hair.
Their hand trailed from his head to over his shoulder.
I stared at them, slightly shivering from the breeze through the window.
My chest tightened as my face heated up, and green—that's all I could see.
No matter how much I want to say that I hate Sylo, how could I? “He's such an angel,” Arin always says.
He’s not an angel in my eyes. He’s a burden—an obstacle. God, I hate him so much I wish he were dead.
I quickly rushed out of the room and didn’t look back, with a rock in my throat.
I need to let go. It’s impossible to get Arin back. I’ve already lost them.
But I’ll never forget the 3rd of December; me in their sweater, our fingers interlocking, our eyes burning into each other.
And as the door clicked shut, I realized that the memory wasn’t lost—it just choose someone else.