More Than Just Us

The sun was sinking low, its orange glow spilling over the basketball court where shouts and laughter bounced in the air. The familiar rhythm of sneakers against cement and the thud of the ball felt like a soundtrack Kaye had been listening to for years. She sat quietly on the old wooden bench near the gate, the same bench that had been theirs since high school. The paint was chipped, the wood rough against her palms, but she loved it. Because this was the place where Kiko always came back to her. Kaye hugged her notebook to her chest as she glanced at the court. She wasn’t really watching the game—never had, if she was honest. Her eyes were searching for only one person, the same one she had been waiting for since forever. “Late again,” she muttered under her breath, though a smile curved her lips. He was always late. Always made her wait. But Kiko had that way of arriving like sunshine after rain—messy, unpredictable, and worth it every single time. “Kaye!” Her heart jumped at the sound. She turned and saw him jogging toward her, strands of damp hair falling across his forehead. Kiko’s grin was the same one she knew from childhood—easy, mischievous, like he’d gotten away with something again. “Thinking of me?” he teased, dropping his gym bag beside her before sitting down. His shoulder brushed hers, casual and familiar, but it was enough to make her pulse quicken. “You wish,” she replied, rolling her eyes. Kiko leaned forward, elbows on his knees, still catching his breath. “Admit it. You were.” Kaye pressed her lips together, fighting a laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself.” “Can’t help it,” he said with a shrug, then leaned over just enough to peek at the notebook in her lap. “Still writing? What’s today’s masterpiece about? Don’t tell me—it’s me again, right?” Kaye’s cheeks heated. She quickly snapped the notebook shut. “As if you’re worth writing about.” Kiko put a hand over his chest in mock offense. “Ouch. I’m your bestfriend. That alone makes me novel-worthy.” She laughed softly, shaking her head. If only you knew, she thought. If only he knew how many pages she had filled with him—his careless smiles, his late-night calls, the way he always found her first in a crowded room. He tilted his head at her. “What are you smiling about?” “Nothing,” she said quickly. “Just… you look ridiculous with your hair sticking out like that.” Kiko reached up, messing it further. “Better?” She rolled her eyes, but her smile lingered. For a moment, silence wrapped around them. Not the uncomfortable kind, but the one that always made her aware of the unspoken things between them. She listened to his steady breathing beside her, the sound of sneakers squeaking on the court, the faint rustle of leaves. “Hey,” Kiko said after a while, nudging her arm. “Remember when we used to sit here after class, and you’d pretend to watch the game just because you didn’t want to go home yet?” Kaye chuckled. “I wasn’t pretending.” “You were. You’d stare at the players but not have a clue what was happening. I’d ask if we were winning, and you’d just say, ‘Probably.’” She swatted his arm playfully. “So what? I was supporting you in my own way.” Kiko grinned. “Best support ever.” His words warmed her, though she forced herself to look away. Best support. Bestfriend. Always those words, as if he had already drawn the line that she was too afraid to cross. “Speaking of support,” Kiko continued, “I have something tomorrow. A presentation. Can you come? You’re like my lucky charm.” Kaye looked at him, her chest tightening. He said it so casually, like it was natural to ask her. And of course, it was. She had been there for every little thing—debates, games, late-night practice runs. That was her role: the one who never left his side. “Sure,” she said softly. “You know I’ll be there.” His smile widened, and she hated how much it made her heart ache. Because sometimes, she wondered if she was only the safe choice. The one he knew would never leave. The one who didn’t need chasing, because she had always been right there. Kaye traced the edge of her notebook with her thumb, biting back the words she had carried for years. You’re more than just my bestfriend, Kiko. But like always, she swallowed them down. Because if she said them out loud, everything might break. And losing him was the one story she could never bear to write.