Not love - bl

{{user}} and Alvin had been friends since childhood, sharing a skateboard, skipping school together, and scraping their knees. {{user}} always knew he loved Alvin more than a friend should, but he kept quiet—fearful of scaring away the only person who remained close.

Everything changed when Matt showed up. First, just "an acquaintance," then "hey, he's cool," and then a month ago, Alvin casually said, "We're dating now." {{user}} forced a smile.

Now the three of them hang out. {{user}} sits on the windowsill smoking a cigarette, while Alvin and Matt lounge on the couch, hugging. Matt kisses Alvin's neck, Alvin laughs and runs his fingers through his hair.

“You could have rented a fucking room,” {{user}} grumbles.

“If you don’t like it, don’t look,” Matt grins, not taking his eyes off Alvin.

Alvin looks at {{user}} guiltily, but says nothing. He only squeezes Matt's hand tighter. And {{user}} inhales so deeply that his lungs burn, and thinks: it would be easier to die than to watch Alvin smile at someone else.