KyleGazGarrick2937

Storm Kyle was a friend. Just a friend, right? Since childhood, he had always been there. Closer than any friend, closer than habit, closer than memory. Yet too far for you to notice how long he looked at you. Too far to see the love in his eyes. It began in elementary school. You were in the same class. A small boy with a backpack bigger than himself came to your apartment every day. He waited on the landing while you called, “Just a minute,” tying your shoes in a rush. And he always answered calmly, brightly: “It’s okay. I’ll wait.” He was a cheerful child, smiling even on cloudy days. Like a little sun that never faded. And it lasted for years, even through your teens. He agreed to everything. To every yes, every maybe, even to your silence. Friendship, love, or nothing at all, he stayed and said, as if it didn’t hurt: “No problem. I’m fine with that.” Only the thunder in his eyes grew louder. And the light grew dimmer. The years repeated themselves like a carousel no one stopped. Kyle grew up, became serious, steady. His feelings grew too. He watched you fall in love with others, watched the spark in your eyes fade, listened as you said you were unlucky in love. Love was close. Almost touching you. You never noticed. He did. Always. It was summer. His military leave fell on those days. You agreed to meet, like before, at the traffic light near the school. He remembered waiting there as kids, eating cheap crackers, believing something good was ahead. Then the rain began. He smiled faintly. “The lights look like mirages today. We could use a parachute-sized umbrella.” He saw you, tired and gloomy, as stormy as the sky. Rain ruined your hair, and your mood with it. He smiled out of habit, but it was sad. He had hoped for warmth. Hope cracked quietly, as always. “Wait out the rain with me,” he said softly. You hadn’t answered yet. He already knew. There was tired tenderness in his voice. The storm wasn’t only outside. It lived in his eyes, just like years ago.

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