Moving Towards Betterness

Things began to evolve between us. We found ourselves sitting together every day, saving seats for each other regardless of who arrived first. Despite our contrasting personalities, there was an undeniable spark drawing us together.

"Thank goodness you're here today," Snow's voice came from behind me as I settled into my seat. Her long black hair was neatly braided, adorned with two vibrant red ribbons at the ends. I turned to face her, initially unsure of what she meant.

"Yeah?"

"He wouldn't let anyone take your seat. It stayed empty the whole time you were gone," she explained.

I didn't need to ask who she was referring to. It was obvious, and I knew exactly who it was. Denver, of course.

He arrived a bit later than usual today, and for a moment, I feared he might have skipped class because I wasn't there. With just five minutes left before class began, he walked in through the door, and I could see the joy light up his face the moment his eyes met mine.

Since our brief conversation over tea in the cafeteria a week ago, our relationship had swiftly evolved. Things seemed to be falling into place. For the first time, I felt like I had someone in my corner, someone whose personality was the polar opposite of mine but who still cared deeply for me. In his presence, I felt alive. He had a way of coaxing out the playful child within me, allowing my mischievous side to flourish. With him, I felt at home.

Just like how a watermelon gains color when surrounded by others, I found myself drawn to the happiness he exuded. His eyes spoke to me when I felt alone, his ears listened when I needed to be heard, and his soul comforted mine when I longed for home.

However, I was adamant about maintaining the boundaries I had set for myself as we navigated this new chapter together. I had made it clear to him as well. One day, as we walked side by side down the corridor, the mid-afternoon sun casting a warm glow above us, I suggested we grab a cup of coffee together.

"Am I dreaming?" he asked, his expression incredulous.

I playfully punched his arm and replied, "Not really."

His laughter was a familiar sound now, and I no longer found myself surprised by his spontaneous bursts of joy over things that might typically warrant a more serious reaction. That's just who he was, and I had grown to accept him in all his forms.

As I began to walk ahead, he quickly caught up and fell into step beside me. "Is everything alright?" he asked, his tone now tinged with a hint of concern.

"Maybe yes, maybe no," I replied teasingly, relishing the rare sight of tension flickering across his usually easygoing face.

"Okay, now you've got me thinking," he said, his brows furrowing slightly.

As we entered the cafeteria, our favorite spot for conversations, I couldn't help but giggle. His surprised reaction reminded me that laughter wasn't exactly common from me, and he wasn't accustomed to it.

Over time, this cafeteria had become our go-to place for discussing everything from the trivial to the significant. From awkward initial conversations to hashing out which side to support in a classroom dispute, or even strategizing for surprise tests announced by our professors, we'd covered a wide range of topics here. It was clear how far we'd come.

Yet, amidst all this, I was careful not to let unnecessary thoughts creep into his mind that could jeopardize our friendship. I had grown accustomed to his companionship, and I was determined not to lose it. Having lost valuable relationships before, I was determined to preserve this one for as long as possible.

"My curiosity is through the roof. Please, tell me what's on your mind," he urged, leaning in eagerly.

Crossing my arms on the table, I took a moment to gather my thoughts. It felt like the weight of what I wanted to share was becoming heavier with each passing second.

Finally, I looked up, meeting his gaze squarely. His eyes held a mix of anticipation and concern, urging me to open up. It was becoming increasingly difficult to bear the burden of my thoughts alone.

"Listen, Denver..."

"I'm all ears! Go ahead," he replied, his attention fully focused on me.

"I wanted to discuss something with you."

"Hmm..."

He listened so intently that I couldn't help but burst into laughter at his serious expression.

"Are you kidding me? You don't have anything to talk about, do you?"

"No, no, I really do want to discuss something with you. It's just... your serious face made me laugh."

"Yeah, because I'm damn curious to know."

"Well... it's actually a serious matter. And I want to talk about it because I don't want to lose you. You're my best friend."

"Yeah, I know that."

"Um, Denver, I've been through a lot in my life for my age, and I'm grateful for those experiences. But the thing is, I don't want to be in any kind of romantic relationship with anyone."

"You're my friend, and I value you deeply. You're the biggest support I have right now. I want you to remain my friend and nothing more. I don't want you to develop any romantic feelings for me because I know the outcome wouldn't be favorable for either of us."

His expression turned serious as I laid out my feelings. I tried to gauge his reaction, but his face went blank, revealing nothing.

"Say something, Denver. Don't stay silent," I urged, feeling unsettled by his lack of response.

Instead of speaking, he took a slow sip from his cup, his silence speaking volumes. I was taken aback by his quietness. I had anticipated various reactions from him, but not this profound silence. It was disconcerting.

"How should I interpret your reaction?" I wondered, furrowing my brow in concern as I reached out to shake his hand gently.

"If you don't want to say anything, at least smile or laugh. I can't handle this silent treatment," I pleaded, hoping to break through the tension with some semblance of normalcy.

He took a moment to gather his thoughts, and I could see he was carefully considering his response. When he finally spoke, he won my heart.

"Grace, you don't need to worry about it. We're good friends, and we'll always be good friends," he reassured me, his smile lighting up his face. Like I had hoped, his smile mirrored mine, and we shared a moment of understanding and relief.

As we sat together, sipping our coffee, I suddenly felt lighter, as if a heavy weight had been lifted from my shoulders.

He pulled up a chair beside me, his eagerness evident in his expression as he looked at me.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly.

"Better now," I replied, offering him a small smile.

"Thank God," he said with genuine relief.

I returned his smile, grateful for his understanding and support.