Winner of YARomance prompt from Panhellenic Games: Pythian Games.

Best friendzone by gildedwolves

*

"A CREAMED LATTE FOR TAN-VEE?"

"It's 'Tun-vi' actually, but thanks!"

I grab my cup and turn away from the barista before he can see my scowl. My name isn't that hard to pronounce, yet Americans find a way to make it sound weird.

Bells chime as I open the door of the cafe to leave. I immediately feel the absence of cool air from the air-con as I step out of the cafe and fall into steps towards Noah's house.

Noah, Eric's friend and fellow band member, lived a few streets away. I would usually catch a bus but today I need the time to contemplate my words to Eric.

"I need to break up with him," I whisper softly to myself.

Eric Liu hasn't been anything less than a blessing to me. Six months ago, when I was new to Liberty, I had been practically invisible. The students didn't find me much interesting other than my notes. I was . . . lonely. But Eric noticed me. He sat next to me in History and asked me to hang out after school. "We Asians stick together" was what he had said.

Since then, Eric and I have become inseparable. Silent giggles in History, sharing food in lunch breaks, cute dates after school. We were having the time of our lives together.

I love Eric, he is my best friend, the one person with whom I can share my ugliest secret but he still will love me just the same. Which is why I have to do it.

Chill evening wind flows through the street, blowing dust and autumn leaves. I sip on my coffee, sighing as the warm liquid slides down my lips. I still haven't gotten used to the Boston cold, and sometimes find myself shivering at any time.

As I am walking, I run my eyes through the shops around—bakeries and meat shops and nurseries and bookstores. With a gentle smile, I take in the children grinning with cupcakes in their hands, women carrying groceries while laughing with their friends, couples holding each other's hands and sharing soft kisses on the sidewalk.

A shop of musical instruments passes my way. I glimpse at the interior, thinking of getting a souvenir for Eric as an apology, and gasp in awe.

A gilded harp gloriously sits amongst other instruments. Setting sunlight falls on the instrument, casting a golden halo around it. I resist the urge to run my fingers through the delicate strings. Instead I turn my gaze to the note beside it.

This harp was formed from the winds of Aeolus, the guardian of the winds. Playing this harp can help you express your deepest feelings to the recipient through music and winds.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

I jump from the sudden voice behind me. An elderly woman with kind eyes smiles at me apologetically. "Sorry for scaring you. I'm Martha, the owner."

I nod my head and say, "is it true? The harp really helps with confessions? It can't be real, right?"

"It's real enough if you make it to be. I haven't tried it myself but I trust in it nonetheless. You can go ahead and test it for yourself." She gestures at the harp. There is a mischievous glint in her eyes, as if challenging me to question her faith.

"That's very kind of you but I can't-"

She laughs. "Don't be modest, darling. You can play the instrument if you want. Quench your cynicism. I can't even play the damned thing."

"Okay," I whisper and cautiously step towards the harp. I don't know how to play the harp, truthfully, only guitar. But how different will it be from other string instruments?

I trace my fingers over the carved surface of the harp, feeling the carved indents on the painted wood. My fingers trail down towards the strings and I hesitate for a moment. Am I making a mistake? What if this is real?

Pushing aside those treacherous thoughts that emerge in my mind, I let out a sigh and touch the tight strings. An ugly note sounds and I wince and pluck the strings again, carefully.

My mind goes to the one person that I have been thinking about the whole day. The unspoken feeling I have hidden in my heart that begged to be free.

I don't love you like that, Eric.

A blast of wind blows over my face, carrying the unspoken words I had just thought. What?

I stand up from my chair, eyes wide, as I turn to Martha. She had a sad smile on her lips. "That's some harsh words you have there, my dear."

"No," I whisper and run from the shop towards the direction of Noah's house. I still felt the sharp words sting my skin. What if Eric hears it, too?

"Shit."

I run and run and run towards the beige house. The wind seems to blow just ahead of me and I can't outrun it.

Eric comes in my view, standing on the foyer, his head tilted towards his phone. My legs start aching and I stop to catch a breath. My eyes start to prick with tears as I feel the wind pass through Eric.

He stands up straight, turning his head sideways to see if it was a joke. His eyes widen as they fall on me.

"Tanvi!" He makes a run towards me and places his hands on my arm with concern. "Are you ok? What– I just heard– What is happening?"

I shake my head and let out a sigh. "I don't know."

"But did you hear it? Some wind blew. And it sounded like your voice." He laughs humorlessly and runs his hand through his dark silky hair. "Am I going crazy?"

I feel a sob rising in my throat. "You're not. Can we talk somewhere else?"

"Um, sure. Where to?"

"Just somewhere quiet."

We make a small walk to the park we usually hang out at. There was a certain calm to this place. Even in the bustle and chaos of the city, this little place was my own version of paradise.

"I'm sorry," I say, as we sit on our designated bench on the edge of a small pool.

"Why?" He turns to me. His soft voice is laced with confusion and a hint of betrayal. I feel a twitch to straighten the frown on his bright as sunshine face.

I take a deep breath, my hands fiddling with nervousness. "I don't love you, Eric."

I feel him gasp. He sighs, his eyes closed, and tilt his head upward. His body language screamed of his hurt, even when he tried to hide it.

"No, listen to me," I say, grimacing at my scratch voice. "I don't love you like you wish me to. I don't love you like a lover does. I never even had a crush on you."

I reach for his hand, warmth engulfing my palms as I intertwine our fingers. "But I really love you as my best friend. I love hanging out with you. You're the one person I trust my life with."

I bit my lip, trying to read his expressions. My mind starts to think of many scenarios of how this could go wrong. What if he doesn't want to be friends with me? I know there's nothing wrong in not having romantic feelings but what if this makes things awkward between us?

"I don't understand, you don't love me romantically?" He asks in a low voice, as if testing unknown waters.

"Yes." I hesitate, then whisper, "I'm aromantic and asexual."

His eyes widen in surprise. "Really?"

"Yeah," I say, nodding.

A smile blossoms on his face and he pulls into a hug. "That's so cool, I'm so happy for you."

"Thank God!" I place my head on his shoulder, leaning into his warm body. "I was worried about hurting you," I mumble softly.

He pulls away slightly, turning his head to face me. "Hey, you don't have to worry about that. I love you but that's my problem. I'll deal with it."

I am not sure whether to cry or laugh at his words. I groan and he laughs.

"How are you so . . . well, you?" I say, gesturing at him.

He shakes his head, a smug smirk on his face. "I'm a limited edition, baby."

"No need to be such a dork about it." I mutter with a smile and fold my legs on the bench, hugging them.

"When did you figure out you were aroace, by the why?" He asks from beside me. His head leans against the backrest. The tender rays of setting sun falls on his face, making the dark chocolate eyes look like warm amber.

"I've been thinking about it for a while. You remember that time I went to my cousin's wedding? We were talking about how cute the couple was and love in general. Looking at my cousins' dreams about finding love and stuff like that made me realise I didn't crave love. At least not like that. Since then, I've been doing research on the internet about aromantic and searching within myself too, about what I feel." As I say this, an air of relief fills my heart. It feels so much nice speaking it out loud, to finally identify myself as who I am.

"Have you come out to anyone else?"

"Nope," I say. "Just you. But I'm thinking of telling my parents." Though a bit traditional, my parents—ever since we moved from India—have tried to be more understanding and open, always trying to learn modern culture. I'm sure they will accept my sexuality too.

"That's great. All the best!" He stands up, dusting his pants and raises his hand for me. "I'm hungry. Let's get some waffles."

I take my hand and rise. "What's with you and waffles?" I comment, laughing.

He gives me a don't-disrespect-the-divine-food look, but shakes his head and starts to walk ahead. I rush to match his stride and grin at my idiotic yet adorable best friend.

"So does that mean you're breaking up with me?" He says, mockingly placing his hand on his heart in hurt.

I put a look of sympathy on my face. "I'm sorry, Eric, but I'm breaking up with you. I hope we can still stay friends though." I blink innocently, gaining a laugh from him.

"It will be hard, but we can be friends, yes," he plays along. I burst into laughter, grinning at our stupidity and hear Eric join in too,

"Wow, I really put you in the friendzone, didn't I?" I say, as our laughter dies down slightly.

He links my arm with his, a smile still on his face. "It's ok. You're my best friendzone."