Back to December

Literary by Ares

I met him in December.

It was quiet at first.

Small talk, shared laughs, exchanged playlists.

By the end of that winter, we were inseparable.

Friends, best friends, companions for every late night and quiet morning.

We both knew there was something more.

The looks held too long.

The conversations that stretched into sunrise.

The way we leaned into each other without meaning to.

We never said the words, but we felt them.

I loved him quietly.

I loved him carefully.

I loved him without ever saying it.

He did too, in his own subtle ways.

You can always tell when someone feels the same.

But neither of us wanted to risk what we already had.

We were scared of what would happen if we tried and failed.

Scared of losing the laughter.

Scared of turning into strangers.

Scared of ruining something that already felt rare.

So we kept it platonic.

So we protected the friendship.

So we pretended that almost-love was enough.

He was the one who introduced me to Taylor Swift.

Because of him, I became a fan.

Because of him, I learned how a song could feel like a memory.

And then it ended.

No warning. 

No explanation.

No messages. 

No calls.

He disappeared.

It was December again.

Three years after we met, the same month that brought us together

was the month that let him slip away.

I have tried listening to Back to December since then.

It is not the same music I used to hear.

It does not feel like a song about someone else.

It hits differently now.

Every lyric echoes the friend I lost, the boy I loved quietly, the boy who loved me quietly too.

I replay the memories again and again.

The way he laughed at my jokes.

The way he never pulled away when I leaned in.

The shared songs, the shared secrets, the shared almost.

The way we tiptoed around the truth.

The way we tried so hard not to ruin the friendship

 only to lose it anyway.

Sometimes I ask myself the question we were too afraid to face.

Is it worth it to ruin a friendship?

Is it worth it to stay silent?

Is it worth it to protect something that can still fall apart?

I want to go back to that December.

Back to the warmth of our closeness.

Back to the moments I should have held tighter.

Back to the time before he walked away without a word.

But I cannot.

All I can do is remember.

All I can do is miss him.

All I can do is go back to that December in my mind.

Where everything felt simple.

Where everything felt right.

Where I still had him.