I watch them, and it's so obvious they're in love. Amazingly enough, they don't think anyone notices. But I do. I see the looks, the longing and barely contained lust in their gazes.
Even if they do love each other, one is shackled to a memory, and the other is too afraid. Everyone's tried to persuade them, but maybe love only works in its own time.
Last night I saw you getting ready for a date. It wasn't with him—he'd already drunk himself blind. I got fed up with it all.
"He's drunk, take him home."
"But…"
"Save him."