He loved her. She was one of the most important people in his life. And he knew she loved him as well. They had acknowledged it only once. One intense night, after she and Leonard had broken up, they had broken down and kissed passionately. He had gone over for a dinner of spaghetti with a cut up hot dog and suddenly the walls between them had crumbled into dust.
They had explored each other's bodies with an intensity that bordered on compulsion. They had talked about their feelings, their hopes, and their desires long into the night. Hour upon hour of poignant communication and tender lovemaking. When day broke, they sealed away that love for good. They stored it away as a memory and pledged to never speak of it again.
They weren't stupid. They knew that sometimes, love wasn't enough. However much they wanted it to work, they were too different, too opposite. They had nothing in common but the way they felt. The most they could truly ever be was friends. That they could make work. Being friends, taking care of each other, was the best they could offer each other. It was the only way to keep each other close without losing it all. He loved her enough to never love her again.