You already lost the part of me that matters most, Elias said. Staying friends is just keeping the ghost of us in the room. It’s a polite way of dragging out the funeral. I’d rather remember us as we were than watch us turn into two people who are careful about what they say to each other.
Elias stood up and pulled his coat from the back of the chair. He didn’t wait for Mark to respond. He knew if he stayed, the resolve would crumble. He knew the pull of familiarity was a powerful, dangerous thing. let-s-not-stay-friends
Mark looked down at his coffee. I don’t want to lose you entirely. You already lost the part of me that
No, Elias countered softly. That’s what we did. But if I do those things now, I’ll be looking for the version of you that loved me. I’ll be waiting for you to reach across the table and take my hand. And when you don’t, because we’re 'just friends,' it’ll break my heart all over again every single Tuesday. I’d rather remember us as we were than
The coffee was lukewarm, much like the conversation. Across the scratched oak table, Mark was doing that thing with his thumb where he traced the rim of his mug, over and over. It was a nervous habit Elias used to find endearing. Now, it just felt like a countdown.