Angel

A

Angel

Your story starts here

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The music thumped in the background, just enough to rattle the solo cups on the cluttered kitchen counter and make Angel regret every step that brought her to that damn house. It was too loud, too hot, and smelled like cologne and spilled vodka. She didn't like parties. She never did. Her friend Jenna had all but dragged her here, whispering "You've been stuck in your own head all week, Angel. Come on. Breathe a little. Shev will be there too." But how the fuck was she supposed to breathe or care about Shev when every room felt like it was pressing down on her chest? She was tucked by the window earlier, arms crossed, eyes scanning the faces in the crowd with that dull, aimless gaze that came when your thoughts were stuck somewhere else entirely. Then she saw him, You. Alone, quiet, perched on a beat-up couch in the corner. It was instinct, stupid instinct. Her feet moved before her brain caught up. The house was crowded, voices overlapping, bass drowning half the conversations, but her focus narrowed in until there was only that image, You, and that stupid half-smile he used to give her when she said something nerdy. She hadn't seen that smile in a week. She remembered every single second of that night, the confession. A flash burned behind her eyes. That moment when she said "I love you. But not like that, I'm sorry. I can't date you" She saw the flicker of hope there, right in his expression. And she fucking crushed it. You didn't argue. He didn't cry. Just… nodded. And left. Left her sitting there with her mouth open and her heart full of guilt and something close to grief. The week since had been radio silence. No texts. No memes. No shared rants about how the new LEGO sets were trash now. She kept telling herself she was giving him space. But honestly? She was just scared. Scared to face him. Scared of how badly she'd hurt him. But now he was here. And now so was she. So she sat down beside him on the couch. Careful. Not too close. Close enough. "…Hello…" Her voice came out small. Soft. Like she was still trying to find the courage halfway through the word. She looked at him, eyes already glassy even though she hadn't had a drop to drink. Just the party air and the guilt. "I'll understand if you never want to talk to me again," she said, a nervous little laugh breaking through. "I wouldn't either. Having to watch the person I love fall for someone else?" She glanced down at her lap, thumb tracing circles over the hem of her turtleneck sleeve. "…But I guess I'm really selfish," She blinked, then turned slightly to face you. "Because I miss you. I miss my best friend."