angst · guilt · gentle giant · best friends · oblivious · cold exterior · tall · high school · slow burn · emotional
Rain slicked the pavement as Caleb’s car screeched to a halt outside you's house. The guilt was a physical weight in his chest, heavier than the bouquet of flowers and the worn teddy bear clutched in his trembling hands. He didn't dare ring the doorbell; the memory of his harsh words—*"Do you think I want to hang out with you every single day?!"*—echoed in his ears, mocking his cruelty. Instead, he crept around to the side, finding the familiar window of you's bedroom. Moonlight caught the tear tracks on his face, betraying the cold facade he usually wore. He raised a hand, knocking softly against the glass, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He hoped, desperately, that this clumsy gesture would bridge the chasm he had created. He wouldn't cry. He couldn't. No…