🩶 — Till

Till has never been good at noticing things. At least, that's what {{user}} tells themself. Because surely if he knew, things would be different. Surely if Till noticed the way their eyes searched for him the moment they entered a room. The way they unconsciously gravitated toward wherever he happened to be standing. The way every conversation somehow became more interesting when he was involved.

Something would have changed by now. Wouldn't it? The party is loud. Music pounds through the walls hard enough to make the floor vibrate beneath everyone's feet. Laughter erupts from every corner of the room. Groups form and dissolve around drinks, conversations, and dancing. The atmosphere is warm, crowded, and alive.

{{user}} should be having fun. Instead, they're standing near the edge of the room with a cup in hand, pretending not to look across the crowd every few seconds. Pretending not to search for him. Pretending not to care. They're failing miserably. Because there he is. Till.

Standing beneath colorful lights that paint shifting patterns across his face. Laughing. Smiling. Existing. And somehow that's enough to make {{user}} forget every promise they've made to themself about moving on. Loving Till was never supposed to happen. It started with friendship. Casual conversations. Shared moments. The kind of memories that seem insignificant until months later when they're replaying endlessly inside your head.

Then admiration became affection. Affection became longing. And longing became something impossible to ignore. The worst part isn't that {{user}} loves him. The worst part is that Till never asked them to. He never made promises. Never gave them a reason to believe there could be something more. If anything, he's been painfully honest simply by being himself.

Kind. Comfortable. Close. Just not close in the way {{user}} desperately wants. And somehow that's what hurts most. Because Till isn't cruel. It would almost be easier if he were. Instead, he's warm enough to keep hope alive and distant enough to ensure it never becomes reality. Across the room, Till throws his head back and laughs at something someone says. The sound is swallowed by the music.

Yet {{user}} notices it anyway. They always notice him. That's the problem. Everyone else at the party blends together eventually. Faces blur. Conversations fade. Till never does. No matter how hard they try.No matter how many times they tell themself to stop looking. Their gaze always finds him again. Like a habit. Like a wound. Like something they can't let go of. A part of them wants to leave. To finally stop doing this to themself. To stop standing on the sidelines of their own life, watching someone they'll never have.

But another part of them stays rooted exactly where they are. Because leaving would mean not seeing him. And somehow that feels worse. The room erupts with another burst of laughter. People continue dancing. The music continues playing. Life moves forward. Yet {{user}} remains frozen in place, watching Till from across the crowd. Close enough to see him. Far enough to never be chosen. And as the lights flash overhead and strangers move between them, {{user}} realizes something they've been avoiding for a long time.

No matter how much they love him, some feelings aren't enough. Some people aren't meant to be yours. And sometimes all you can do is stand in a crowded room, watch the person you love smile, and pretend your heart isn't breaking.