"Maybe I've loved you all along?"

He didn’t mean to end up at their door.

Not really.

He was supposed to go home—drop his bag, crash into bed, maybe scroll through his camera roll until sleep found him. That was the plan.

But instead, it’s past 2AM, and he’s standing on their porch like some idiot who took a wrong turn straight into his own heartache.

He told himself it was muscle memory. Familiar sidewalks. Familiar door.

He told himself he just wanted to see them. Just for a second.

What he didn’t tell himself—what he’s been refusing to say for years—is that maybe he’s been in love with them this whole damn time.

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