Unseen

The Best Friend Role

It started with a call at 1:47 a.m.

The kind that lights up your phone in the dark like a lifeline. Mia’s name on the screen, her voice cracking the moment he answered.

“He didn’t text back. Again,” she whispered, the tears already there, tucked beneath the surface of her words.

The narrator sat up in bed, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he reached for his glasses. “I’m here,” he said softly. He always was.

That became the pattern.

He learned how to listen without letting his voice tremble. How to steady his breathing while she fell apart on the other end of the line. Mia didn’t notice the silence that filled the space between her sobs and his reassurances. But he did. He heard the ache in it.

“I don’t understand him,” she would say. “Sometimes he’s so sweet, and then he just disappears.”

He wanted to say: You deserve better. You deserve someone who shows up. Someone who doesn’t make you question your worth every time your phone doesn’t buzz.

But instead, he said, “Maybe he’s just scared. Some people don’t know how to handle something real.”

She always liked that answer. It gave her hope.

Hope that wasn’t his to give.

During the day, they laughed like always. Shared memes. Stopped by their usual café where she’d steal fries off his plate and mock his playlist. But at night, when the masks came off, he became something else to her—someone soft to fall into when Ryan left her hanging. Someone who absorbed all her sadness like it was his job.

She once called him her anchor. Said she didn’t know what she’d do without him.

And he smiled.

God, he smiled like it didn’t hurt.

He began to study Ryan like he was preparing for an exam. Tall. Confident. The kind of guy who walked into a room and made people notice. The kind who made girls blush and parents approve. He wasn’t like that. He didn’t turn heads. He didn’t walk in; he waited in the background, already looking for the exit.

But she never needed an exit with him. Just a soft place to land.

He became her comfort zone. Her emergency contact. The guy she turned to when things went wrong—not the one she wanted when things went right.

Some nights, after the calls ended and she’d finally stopped crying, he’d lie awake in the dark, the echo of her voice still lingering.

You’re the best. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

He knew what that meant. He knew exactly what role he played.

The best friend. The fallback. The silent protector.

And as much as it broke him, he kept showing up.

Because she needed him.

And that was enough.

Wasn’t it?

One-Sided

It wasn’t sudden. Love rarely is.

It was in the way Mia smiled when her phone buzzed. In how her mood shifted with each message from Ryan. In how her voice softened when she spoke about him, even when she was angry.

The narrator saw it happening—bit by bit, moment by moment.

She was falling for Ryan.

And he was still just… the best friend.

There was a moment—just a small one—that broke him more than any big confession ever could. They were sitting on the grass outside campus, watching the sky turn that golden-orange shade that always made her sigh. She was quiet for a while, then turned to him.

“Do you think he likes me?” she asked.

And for a second, he almost lied. Almost said no. Almost told her that Ryan wasn’t good enough, that someone else—someone closer—was right there, already loving her more than Ryan ever would.

But he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “I think he does.”

She smiled then. The kind of smile people write poems about. And it wasn’t his.

That night, he didn’t answer her call. He let the phone ring until it stopped, then stared at the screen for a long time after. Guilt weighed heavy, but not as heavy as the ache in his chest.

He began pulling back.

Slowly.

He answered less quickly, made excuses to skip their usual hangouts. He told himself he needed space, a little air between his heart and hers. Just enough to keep from drowning.

But Mia noticed.

“You okay?” she asked one evening after catching up with him outside class. “You’ve been… distant.”

“I’ve just been busy,” he lied.

She tilted her head, unconvinced. “With what? Avoiding me?”

He looked at her then—really looked.

Eyes filled with concern. A little hurt. A little fear.

Not fear of losing him.

Fear of losing the person who held her together.

“I need you,” she said quietly. Like a truth she didn’t want to admit.

And that was all it took.

All his plans to fade away, to protect his heart, to finally let go—gone.

Because how do you walk away from someone who says they need you? Even if they don’t love you back. Even if every day beside them chips away at your soul.

So he stayed.

He showed up the next day. And the next.

He listened to more Ryan stories. Picked up more broken pieces. Pretended that being her best friend was enough.

But deep inside, he knew.

Love that isn’t returned doesn’t stay soft.

It starts to rot.

And yet, he held it anyway—close to his chest, pretending it was still beautiful.