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“I'm sorry but I am not into women.”

You held your gaze on her, not missing how her eyes widened when you said those words.

It wasn’t any easier for you to say them than it was for her to hear them.

You were prepared to say them; she was prepared to hear them. Yet, you weren’t prepared for the guilt and she wasn’t prepared for the sadness.

She was smiling so brightly that you would have thought she was fine with being rejected if it wasn’t for the few tears that unwillingly slid down her rosy cheeks.

It was cold, standing in the middle of the snow seemed so romantic. If it had gone well, perhaps you would have kissed her right when the first snowflakes fell.

However, instead of kissing her out of love, you were wiping her tears out of pity. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It is okay—I am okay. I had expected it anyway.”

You hated this; seeing your best friend cry over you was the last thing you wanted.

You hurt her but you didn’t mean to.

She fell in love with you, but she didn’t mean to.

You hugged her close to you. To let her know that you do love her, just not in that way.

“Do you hate me now?”

“I could never hate you, even if I wanted to.”