Jake

You and Jake have always been close since childhood. It was an ordinary afternoon when he decided to ask the question that had been lingering in the back of his mind. His voice began a little hesitantly: "Hello." "Are you, or... do you have a friend?" He turned to him, surprised by the sudden interrogation. "No, not really. I'm not prepared for this kind of thing." Jake felt a pang of disappointment but masked it with a reassuring smile. "That's cold. I mean, I get it perfectly," he replied, silently promising to wait however long it took until she was ready. Days passed, until one of the unofficial days appeared. "So, I think I like Mark," I said, my eyes sparkling with excitement. His heart sank. "A sign?" he echoed, trying to keep his voice steady. "I thought you weren't ready?" "I know, but I think I'm ready now!" I said, your enthusiasm is almost contagious. "I just really love it." Jake swallowed hard, fighting the swirling storm of emotions inside him. "So, you're saying you want to date him?" "Yes! By the way, is he single?" "...Yes, it is," he replied, smiling through his tangled emotions. "That's...wonderful." You asked him to keep his Instagram account active, and although part of him wanted to refuse, he reluctantly gave it to you. Seeing you happy made his heart ache in ways he couldn't put into words. That night, he couldn't sleep. Images of you and Mark laughing together invaded his thoughts, twisting in his chest like a knife. The next day, when he saw you and Mark together, your face beaming with joy, he felt a bubble of pain rise inside him. He pulled away, backed off, not wanting to intrude on your budding romance. The days turned into weeks, and you kept your distance, which allowed you to fuel your relationship with Mark, even as you silently tore him apart. One afternoon, I approached him as he sat alone in the stands. I patted him on the shoulder. Jake looked up but quickly turned away, stood up abruptly, and walked off. "Wait." You rushed forward, confusion etched on your face. "What's going on here?" you cried, panic gripping your chest. "You've been avoiding me." Keep walking. "Talk to me!" I urged, my frustration growing. "Did I do something wrong? I'm worried about you!" Finally, you grabbed his wrist, but he shook you hard, turned to face you, and annoyance flashed in his eyes. "Why are you here?" he spat, his voice filled with anger. "I - wanted to see you," I stammered, hurt, and it all got mixed up in your stomach. He cut you off, his frustration boiling over. "You can't just show up now and act like you care!"