“i’m sorry.” his voice is tender, sincere.

it shatters me, my chest caving and my hands shaking. i must stuff a hand over my mouth to keep quiet. i thank god he cannot see my face.

hot tears overflow from my eyes unrelentingly. i cant see the walls around me. no words form in my brain that i know how to say, so i just lay, curled into a heap on my bed, holding this phone to my ear, crying. i don’t move. i don’t speak. i don’t breathe.

he says my name like a question, and he is careful, concerned, like he is holding a rose by its stem, conscious of the many thorns.

i don’t know how to respond to him. “yeah,” i choke out. “i’m... i’m here.”

“are you okay?” he asks with some uncertainty. he is tentative. i can hear the guilt he feels.

this sets loose a tumult of emotions within me, all vicious with teeth and claws and thundering like a breaking wave in a storm. the tears feel like they will never stop, soaking my face and the sheet beneath my head.

no, my mind cries, i’m not okay.

i want to say, i haven’t been okay since i realized i love you.

but i am silent, my face scrunched painfully in anguish. all i can do is nod very quickly even though he cannot see.

“yeah...” finally, i say it. it is the largest lie i have ever told.

there is silence between us for a few moments. i can just hear him breathing through the phone.

“when do you go?” i ask.

“Monday.”

i crumble.

“i’m... i’m so happy for you. like seriously.” i laugh at myself. “but it’s gonna be weird in class without you.”

he chuckles. i know exactly what he’s thinking. “nah, you’ll get through it.”

i quip, “of course i will” with a sarcasm he will recognize well. i know he will not feel so horrible if i am the me he has always known again, though it takes all of my strength to do this for him.

he clicks his tongue. this is our game, our unique little way of communicating with each other that always results in one of us left speechless, usually me, and the other laughing. i have never been this way with anyone. so combative, stubborn, playful. i think, as i ponder it now, now that he will be leaving and i will not see him again, that i did it so i could hear his beautiful laugh more.

my face contorts, and the tears are spilling freely again. i will miss that laugh the most.

we share a silence that is comfortable. i believe he is waiting, i’m not sure for what—or perhaps i am waiting, for him to say something that will get us talking, joking. something that will make it seem like he isn’t leaving. anything, just to hear his deep voice mingle with the quiet.

there is an elephant in the room, barely fit inside, so gargantuan and unfortunate that it burns in the back of my throat, clogs it. i know he feels the same. this has never been just about him moving away. he did not tell me he was sorry because of that. he said it because he knows that i love him, and he has known. but i am a coward and he is a poor boy who does not reciprocate my feelings, caught up in our friendship which he enjoys, but unsure how to continue pursuing it without hurting me. it does hurt me, but i could never fault him for that. not while loving him as much as i do.

so i say nothing of this elephant. like always. he is leaving; there is no point to it now, when i would only be more hurt if i did.

the silence breaks when he says, “well, i should head out.”

i smile and lie, “yeah, me too.”

“night.” he says my name, using my nickname that sounds best from his mouth.

“night,” i reply.

he hangs up first.

when he is gone and i am alone i lay for a moment. flashes of all that was said and all that was not flood my mind. the sound of crickets outside beats down on me until i am sobbing again, like a child, into my arm.

his laugh sings in my mind like a melody. i savor it while i can remember.