When you’re someone’s lover, you learn all kinds of things about them, things that a friend doesn’t know. You learn how their body feels pressed up against yours.You learn how their lips taste. You learn how their skin feels against your mouth. You learn how they smirk as you squirm beneath their lips.
When you’re friends with someone, you learn all kinds of things about them, things that a lover might not know. You learn why they hate their voice. You learn why they love to gamble. You learn why their nose is slightly crooked. You learn why the silence makes them sad.
But when your lover is your best friend you learn everything about them.
You know why their nose is slightly crooked, and you know how it feels nuzzled into your collar bone. You know why they hate their accent, but you know how sweet it sounds whispering that you’re beautiful. And it’s great, it’s wonderful, it’s magical—while it lasts.
But god, when it comes crashing down, it hurts like hell.
Because now you are faced with everything you know about them and that they know about you. You can’t un-know any of it, and god do you want to. When you decide to be friends with him again, you’ll wish you didn’t know anything you shouldn’t.
You’ll wish you didn’t know that he smiles right before he kisses you. You’ll wish you didn’t know how his hands felt on your body. You’ll wish you didn’t know how his heart feels hammering loudly when his chest is pressed against yours. You’ll wish you didn’t know how his lips felt on your neck. You’ll wish like hell you didn’t know.
But much to your dismay you can’t un-know all of this information, all of these pieces of him, that you once held in your hand, now float away, just out of your grasp. These pieces, these shreds of the past, they cloud your vision, taunting you with what was, what you once had.
You want to not know any of these things, but dammit, you know. And it pierces your heart and leaves you sobbing in your car wondering how something so wonderful could last for such a short time.
You try to pretend you don’t know the exact story of how he got that scar or how his laugh at a joke sounds different than the slight chuckle he sometimes lets out before his lips are on yours. You try to pretend you don’t know these things, but god you know. And you don’t want to know. It makes everything so much harder, the knowing.
So, you do anything you can to forget. You think about all the guys you will use to replace him, to fade his memory, but you don’t, because you know they will feel like a cheap imitation. You think about the way the guy before him felt, hoping it will help you forget him, but all you can think is that the guy before him paled in comparison, and you now can’t fathom why you ever wanted him.
The memories will wake you at three am.
You will have good news that you would have texted him, even when you were just friends, but now you resist, you don’t want him to know you have anything other than platonic feelings lingering. You will hang out with him after a terrible day, and you will know how good it would feel to melt into his arms, and the absence of his arms around you will sharpen the pain of your moderately bad day a thousand times.
Oh god, all the things you wish you didn’t know.