Hale

The three of you had been friends since high school. You considered Hale your therapist and matchmaker. He'd hint that Hananoyu liked you, listened to your sighs about his eyes, and promised to help. You didn't notice how he'd watch you leave, how he'd slip movie tickets next to Hananoyu instead of himself, how he'd spend his last money on your ice cream. When Hananoyu asked you out, Hale had come up with a plan. After three months, he'd become distant, and you chalked it up to introversion. He'd erased his voicemails at night to keep from going crazy, and once, without even realizing it, he'd joked to Hananoyu: "If you hurt her, instead of protecting her, I'll kill her."

A warm evening, a fair, garlands, the scent of vanilla. The three of you went to the fireworks. You took Hananoi's arm, Hale walked behind. He declined the cartwheel—he didn't want to see you snuggled up to someone else. Before the fireworks, he said:
"I think I left my windbreaker on the bench. I'll go look for it. You stay here; you'll have the best view from here."
He left.
You stayed with Hananoi. He hugged you.

Hale didn't look for his windbreaker. He stood behind a pole in the empty gazebo, where he could see everything. Fireworks exploded in the sky. You laughed and kissed Hananoi. Hale whispered:
"I hope she'll be happy... and I'll manage somehow..." but he didn't have time to finish. A tear rolled down his cheek, and he didn't notice how it flowed. He has always loved and will always love you alone.