I grabbed his hand and held it so tight I almost felt like I was hurting him, "Wake up!" I wanted to scream. All that came out was a harsh whisper, half anger while another, sympathy.
I wiped my tears away, feeling sorry for him. He was my only close friend, almost like a brother to me. I couldn't afford to watch him broken and helpless.
I couldn't possibly live another week looking at him, walking around thinking he was going somewhere when he was clearly not. I remembered when he enthusiastically told me he wanted to be someone new, just several month ago, how he wanted to find someone new to compliment the other half.
When he shared he was going out with some new clicks from work, I knew he had to force himself out of the house. I knew he would later spend the rest of the night on his bed, shedding sour, lukewarm tears on his pillow.
Cock and bull story.
Everything was a lie. The moment he looked at her picture, I knew he had failed miserably. I wasn't sure which one was more puzzling, the fact that he wasn't going anywhere or this churning mixture of exasperation and regret I was feeling.
He finally looked at me when I tighten my grip. He hesitated. Then held my face softly, each palm on each cheek and finally mumbled, "I want to run away my friend. I do not belong here."
"Stop it. You can't leave me. Why must you leave? TELL ME. Why can't she, leave instead?"
"She's not," he paused, trying to retain his conspicuous sorrow, "leaving anywhere. The longer I stayed, the longer I'm going to get hurt."
I was relieved he finally came to his senses. but I felt cheated. "We are so close, Nate. And now you suddenly decide to break this one for this worthless lady. How is this fair to me?" I pushed his hands away. I knew I was going to be lonelier than I was already now.
"Alma-" he reached for me again.
"It's okay. She won. I failed as a friend."
"Come close to me," he muttered slowly.
As I reluctantly drew myself in his embrace, the summer wind gushed in through the window.