“I don’t believe in best friends,” he whispered to me. In the dim light casted by the moon, I could tell he was turned towards me. “I don’t believe in soulmates, either,” he continued, “Or God.” I closed my eyes. The overgrown grass was slightly moist underneath my palms, freshly cared for by the drizzling rain. I pressed my palms completely into it, curling my fingers around the lengthy edges. “Are you listening?” He asked. His voice sounded closer than earlier. I realized I never said anything back. “Yes,” I replied. There was a short pause. Then: “Are you angry?” I opened my eyes and found him laying on his stomach with both of his elbows digging into the ground. The moon was partially covered by the clouds now, and he was almost nothing but a silhouette. “I’d never be angry with you.” I said. The chirping of the crickets matched my heartbeat. When he spoke next, his voice would have been inaudible if I hadn’t memorized his vocal range.“Even if I say I’ll never love you?” I closed my eyes again. It’s always too easy to answer a question you’ve already anticipated. “Even then.”
I knew we’d never happen but it’s a nice thought to cling to (via aawordthings)
