He was her almost lover. He made her feel safe. And loved. And sometimes complete. Sometimes not, but it still felt right. He made sure she was happy, and fixed it when she wasn't. He was warm, and comfortable and he fit just right next to her. His hand held hers in that perfect way that didn't make either of their hands too clammy. He wiped her tears, and tucked strands of hair behind her ear. He went along with her crazy plans. Well, most of them. He always opened the door and he knew what she was thinking when even she didn't. He made her coffee just the way she liked it, and he let her fall asleep on top of him, even though she wasn't that light. He was impossible to forget and, apparently, vice versa. He was her almost lover. The one that would kiss her forehead but not her lips. The one that would pat her knee, but stop at her thigh. The one that would cover her with a blanket, but not get under it himself. The one that would always mean everything. The one that now had a girlfriend.
And it wasn't her.