Once You Were My Friend

October 2023 (Seven Weeks Later)

He had heard she went out on a date with Dan. Several, actually. He wondered how she really felt about Dan but he never could find the courage to ask, paralysed at the thought he'd become insignificant to her. When Nami and Sebastian were together, they would occasionally make fun of Dan, reactionary to the things he had done. Like that night Dan continued to openly flirt with her even though it was common knowledge amongst friends she was with Sebastian. They would poke fun at his desperate attempts and philosophical ideas that were used as a shield for his insecurities. Or that time Dan had set her aside and said to her, "why are you so emotionally involved with him?" So it made him wonder, what did she see in Dan, after all the inside jokes they've created together? Were they not allowed to tease him anymore now that she was romantically involved with him? The first time he found out about it, he imagined punching Dan in the face - in his smug face and ripping his nose ring right off his nostril. But he couldn't do that. It brought a comfort picturing it though. It was mostly at his own frustrations. He'd concluded Nami didn't want to be with him; an emotionally unavailable person who hadn't learned to communicate his feelings. He should have told her he loved her that night and if he did, maybe they would be together. Instead, he told her he knew Dan had always liked her and he expected this all along. It may have come across as blanketing his own ego, but it was true, Dan did always like her. She rolled her eyes when he said that. "Sure," she said and then they didn't talk about it again.

          Although something about this information annoyed him, he knew he couldn't feel this way for too long. He had gone on dates with other women too, often dating mindlessly. Even during the sex: meaningless, dawdling and wanting it to be over. Women would message him back and he wouldn't return them. He was appalled by his own behaviour, but he didn't seem to care either. Being a hypocrite doesn't suit him well. They've agreed to continue to be friends since that night in her bedroom. Platonic love, she called it. Sebastian was on the more reluctant side, apprehensive about that kind of love between them. He could hardly believe she was convinced of her own words either, that she had made up these terms to push him away. There would always be something more. They were both moths to a flame of their own creation.

          She was sitting in the passenger's seat now, her phone connected to the aux cable on the dashboard as she typed something on her phone. He was on his second pouring of black coffee. They were driving to the combined bachelorette and bachelor party in Upstate New York for the weekend. Taking her was something he offered. Dan didn't own a car. Sebastian did. As if owning one made him more of an adult, a show of providence Dan couldn't afford. He had driven to Jersey that Friday morning to pick her up. Before that, he'd spend a couple of minutes deleting two dating apps from his phone and several messages with other women, along with their unsolicited pictures. He never looked at them but he didn't do anything about it either, until then, being outside her house. He didn't know why he felt the need to do this - to rid of evidence he's been with other people. Maybe it was the conscience of his own guilt, afraid of the judgement Nami would cast upon him of his recent satiability. These stress inducing thoughts would have been easier if they weren't friends, he had to admit but even then, he couldn't let go of this friendship. He thought of himself as a pathetic person and a selfish one at that - a person who couldn't let someone he loved have their own autonomy. And here they were as friends when not too long ago, she told him she loved him.

          Nami then gestured the packet of Lays towards him. He dipped his hand into the family sized foiled package and clawed a handful of chips. Some fell onto his lap and he would pick them up later. He could feel her eyes on him, something he was used to, a habit they had learned of each other's unspoken moments over the years of knowing each other. "Do I have something on my face?"

          He did a quick glance over to her and then looked back onto the highway. She had stopped looking at him. "No," she said.

          "What is it then?"