Luther

You had a best friend named Luther. He was the sweetest man you had ever met.

He always called you “baby” as a joke because he loved teasing you, and every single time he said it, your heart reacted in ways you wished it wouldn’t. To him, it was harmless fun. To you, it meant everything.

Luther would constantly talk about a girl named Audrey, the girl he had liked for months. He talked about her smile, the way she laughed at his jokes, and how pretty she looked whenever she tied her hair up. You listened to every story with a smile on your face, pretending it did not hurt, even though jealousy quietly twisted inside your chest.

Sometimes you would see them together in the school hallways, walking side by side with their hands brushing against each other, looking so much like lovers that it made your stomach ache. You hated how perfect they looked together, but you hated yourself even more for feeling that way.

You had liked Luther for months, maybe even longer, but you never confessed. You were terrified that the truth would ruin everything between you. Losing him completely felt far worse than silently loving him from a distance.

So you stayed quiet.

You laughed at his jokes, listened to him ramble about Audrey, and pretended your feelings did not exist.

One afternoon at school, while you were organizing books inside your locker, Luther suddenly approached you with the biggest smile on his face. His eyes were shining with excitement, almost boyishly happy.

“Baby,” he called out playfully, slightly out of breath. “Audrey said I could court her.”

The moment the words left his mouth, it felt like your chest tightened painfully.

For a second, you could not breathe.

You forced yourself to smile, but it came out weak and trembling. “That’s... great, Luther.”

He kept talking excitedly, too caught up in his happiness to notice the way your eyes started watering.

“I think I actually have a chance with her now,” he laughed. “Can you believe it?”

You looked away before he could see the tears threatening to spill.

“I have to go,” you whispered quickly.

Before he could say anything else, you turned around and hurried down the hallway. Your vision blurred as you rushed toward the girls’ bathroom, desperately trying to hold back your tears.