Usually when people receive invitations to their friend's wedding, they'd be ecstatic. In my case, it sealed the deal for a lifetime heartbreak. For a lack of better words, this situation was far from ideal. Sometimes I wondered if it could have ended any other way.
When we had first met, we were in middle school, and I was always alone and most people chose to ignore my existence. You noticed this and approached me, offering to keep me company. When you held out your hand to me, I merely stared in disbelief that anyone would bother to talk to me.
The first thing I noticed about you was your hair—a warm shade of red, but not too intense as to be jarring to the eyes. It complimented your pale, delicate skin. The scars—which you called "flaws," but I absolutely adored them—traced over your left cheek in contrast with the smoothness of your skin. And most importantly, I'll never forget those eyes; they were mesmerizing orbs of deep crimson like a freshly bloomed rose. Suffice to say, I was entranced.
You giggled at my reticence, brushed it off as shyness and introduced yourself. "Hi, I'm Fukase. You were spacing out a bit so I was wondering if you were alright. What's your name?"
"O-Oliver…" I managed to stutter out. I cringed at my pathetic attempt to respond. "And don't worry, I'm okay."
Even after my lackluster reply, you still chose to stick around. I was pleasantly surprised to have a new friend, and you were quick to break the ice between us. We've been through the good and troublesome times over the years. Like a normal friendship, we'd sometimes have minor arguments but we always forgave each other afterwards. You became my best friend—but I soon learned that that term wasn't quite accurate.
I don't remember exactly when it started, but in high school, I've noticed the feelings I had for you were more than just friendship. When you told me you got a girlfriend, I was jealous. At first, I thought it was because you were spending more time with her than with me; but every time you held her hand, every time you kissed her, I wished that was me.
You were happy with her, and I didn't want to take away those smiles from you. Even if it pained me, I merely sat by the sidelines. All I could do was wish for the best for you. Was it so wrong for me to love you as well?
One day, you approached me with a somber expression; the once lively crimson eyes became dull with emptiness. For some time, neither of us spoke, nor was I the one to pry for information. My face turned pale at the sight of you breaking down in tears; it was the first and only time I've seen you cry. You told me that she broke up with you for someone else, and I was furious that she hurt you like this.
My eyes widened in surprise when you embraced me. I hugged you back in response as you cried out an ocean of tears. At that moment that my heart skipped a beat, but it was false hope.
You eventually pulled away from the hug and said, "I'm glad you're here for me, as always." With stray tears lingering in your eyes, you ruffled my hair. "You're just like a little brother!"
My heart shattered into millions of pieces as if it were a fragile plate of glass. Little brother? Was that how you thought of me?
"Y-yeah, of course. You can always talk to me." That was all I could say.
I wished I could tell you how I truly felt, but you needed a supportive friend at that time—and that was what I provided. It would have been selfish and opportunistic of me to force my feelings onto you at such a tough time.
After that incident, you never showed that side of you again; you always smiled as if the breakup had no effect on you. Neither of us ever mentioned that moment again. I wished I wasn't so hesitant.
We hadn't spoken to each other much after we went our separate ways in college. You went to study abroad and our contact was limited to online communication and a few phone calls. I desperately wanted to see you again. During the infrequent chats we had, you didn't talk as much as we used to, and it felt as if we were drifting apart. Nevertheless, my feelings for you never wavered. I wished they'd just fade away.
After graduation, I was delighted when you said you were returning to our hometown; we could finally spend time together again. I figured maybe I would have the courage to tell you this time, for sure.
Little did I know that it was the final nail in the coffin.
Our long-awaited reunion wasn't what I expected. We met up again and caught up a bit over some coffee; things were going well for you in your life. Throughout our conversation, you had a spark of excitement in your eyes and you eventually handed me an intricately decorated envelope.
My hands trembled as I tore open the flimsy sheet of paper. In the envelope was an invitation to a wedding—your wedding. My heart sank, but I suppressed my agony with the warmest smile I could muster. "Congratulations. I'm happy for you, Fukase."
"Thanks, Oliver. I'd be happy to have you there, like always."
"Yes…like always."
After all these years, I missed my chance to tell you that I've loved you. It was far too late now, and all I can do is support you like I always had.
I stared into the mirror to make sure I was presentable; my black suit had not a single wrinkle and my normally messy blonde hair was combed neatly. I was dressed as if I were attending a funeral rather than a wedding. Perhaps this was more so a funeral for my chances to tell you the truth.
I questioned why I even bother to attend this wedding. It only reminds me of my heartbreak, but I still wanted to support you. Even if I'm not the one by your side, I still wanted to be there for you. Isn't that what true love is?
Tears threatened to surface as I glanced at the wedding invitation in my pocket; I harshly shut my eyes to stop them. I folded up a few more handkerchiefs and stuffed them into my blazer's pocket. I was definitely going to need a lot to wipe away my tears. However, what you didn't know was that they weren't tears of joy.
I've always loved you, Fukase. I always will.
