Four Little Words

Four little words, that's all I ask from you. Just four, that's all I need to hear from you. I know you think that I should be saying three little words. But I've already heard those three words, and I've repeated them to you countless times as well. Right now though, what I want to hear are those four words, that one sentence that will make everything right. That will solve all my problems with you, with us. You won't give them to me though, will you?

It's been two weeks; I'm still waiting for them.

Two weeks ago, on Friday, our movie night, I went downstairs to retrieve the popcorn from the microwave. You had put it in, so naturally, I was the one that had to go and get it. I didn't mind though, we switched off; some days you would get it, some days it would be me.

I came back to your bedroom holding a large bowl of hot popcorn in one hand, and two can drinks stacked atop of each other in the other. I entered your room, and I swear I almost dropped all three items.

We had had a movie night every Friday night since I can remember. It started back when we were kids, and our mothers had forced us to play together while they had friends over for their women's poker night, or something of that sort.

The tradition carried on long after our mothers' stopped with theirs. It even carried on throughout our relationships. No matter what was going on, Friday was always our night, and only our night.

About six months ago, I remember coming to your house and letting myself in through the front door, the house was quiet and all the lights were off. As I made my way to your bedroom I flicked the switch of every light I passed. Dark houses always scared me, they still do.

Your room was dark, and you were sitting on your bed with you legs crossed staring at you cell phone that sat silent in front of you. I walked over and picked it up. Your gaze didn't lift; you didn't stop staring at the spot where seconds before your phone had been resting. I pressed the center button and looked at the screen, trying to figure out what you had been so captivated by.

That's when I read the message and knew. Your girlfriend of over a year had broken up with you via text message. It was low, really low, and my surroundings suddenly made sense. You had been in love with her, I knew because you constantly told me. I thought it was strange. Never had I heard of a guy being so outspoken about their feelings, and I couldn't get you to shut up about her, and how much you two were in love.

I helped you with getting over her; I comforted you, and taught you that there was life outside of what the two of you had. After two months I finally confessed my true feelings to you; I told you that I had fallen in love with you.

To my utter surprise you said to me that you felt the same way. I was shocked, ecstatic, and on top of the world. My best friend was in love with me, and I him. Things couldn't have been better for me in that moment.

It lasted five months, no not our relationship. You went five months without talking to her, and then she texted you that day. I couldn't believe it, you actually texted her back; the two of you had an actual conversation. I felt happy for you; because I didn't think that I would have been able to speak to her if she had done that to me.

Two weeks passed, I didn't know that you were still texting her, talking to her, meeting with her. And then it happened.

I came back from the kitchen, our food and drinks in my hands, and you were sitting there talking to her on the phone as if nothing had ever happened between the two of you. As if the last six months had never happened. As if we had never happened.

I got mad at you; we never finished that movie, never even started it, because I stormed off in an angry state. Before I did though, I asked you my question; the question that required a four worded answer, just the one sentence.

You stayed up that entire night calling my cell phone, and leaving me voicemail after voicemail, trying to explain that you couldn't help how you felt. And that you still loved me.

I listened to each message, but never once did I phone you back. That could have been my mistake.

Did you know that my inbox is full now? That's because you insist on phoning me every chance you get, and each time that I don't pick up, which happens to be every time, you leave me a voicemail. Just because you call doesn't make it any easier. In fact, it would make things a whole lot easier on me if you stopped calling altogether. Do you think you could do that one thing for me?

You were my best friend; I kind of expected more from you. But I guess as you said in one of the many messages, you didn't mean to hurt me. Did you know that that doesn't make it hurt any less? It doesn't make me love you any less either. But it does make me hate you a little less. Not much less though.

I can't believe that I didn't see it coming, you know that? I guess I should have though, after that first text message I should have put my guard up. But I trusted you. I didn't think that you were like all the other guys. I didn't think that you could do something like this, to me of all people.

But what I can't believe the most, out of everything. Is that you still love her. After everything she did. You still love her.

You answered my question alright. You gave me a four worded answer, just like I asked you to. But it wasn't the right one. You said the wrong sentence; you gave the wrong answer; the wrong four words!

You weren't supposed to say that you still love her; you were supposed to say that you didn't love her. But you didn't say that.

A/N: Comments are always welcome:) Please I would like to know what you think about this story... I have mixed feelings about it... so your opinion would be lovely!