"You like him." 

"He's in a relationship, Candy." 

"You like him." 

"He's in a relationship." 

"You like him."

Finally, Annabelle sighed. "I like him but he's in a relationship."

Candy sat back, grinning smugly. Her whole apartment felt like magic was streaming through it; the chimes were louder, the candles were brighter, and the old woman herself was dressed in a sequined cloak. 

"Well, look, Annabelle," Candy was saying. "It's simple. If you like him, why don't you just tell him?" 

Annabelle gave her an exasperated look from across the table, sinking into Candy's strange little settee. "I don't want to be a home wrecker!" 

"How would you be wrecking his home?" 

"Well, I'd be getting in the way of his relationship." 

"How?" 

Annabelle frowned. "Well..." 

Candy stood suddenly, reaching across the table and placing a withered, warm hand onto the young girls' cheek. "Annabelle, we don' confess our feelings for them to realise they like us and come falling into our arms. We confess our feelings so we aren't bottling it up in here." 

She lowered her hand onto Annabelle's heart. Annabelle glanced up, eyes wide. 

"You really think I should tell Luca that I like him?" she asked softly. 

Candy shrugged. "What's the worst that happens?" 

"Our friendship ends up becoming ruined."

"If your friendship is ruined because you decided to open about how you really feel, then maybe it wasn't really a good friendship to begin with." 

Annabelle nearly staggered back at that. 

She had to admit -- the old lady had a point. 

With a warm smile, she placed her hand over Candy's. 

"Thanks, Candy." 

"You're so very welcome, dear." 

"How about you give me one last horoscope before I decide to do anything crazy?" 

The old woman closed her eyes, making a show of waving her hands ominously and feeling over Annabelle's palms. Then, snapping her eyes open, she snorted. 

"Venus and Mars are circling around to tell you to stop hanging around here. Go and talk to your man, already!" 

Annabelle laughed as Candy half-chased her out the door. 

Maybe it was strange that her closest friend was the old woman who lived next door. But, still, she had to admit -- she wouldn't have it any differently, even if she could. 

Luca's home was far cleaner than Annabelle's. 

There were no clothes strewn around, no stains on the thick carpets or rumples on his beddings. Hell, even his tables were wooden and polished and pristine, and Annabelle could smell the faint scent of bleach as she walked in. 

Luca was the only thing that seemed out of place in his home. 

Dishevelled hair. Sunken eyes. Pale skin. 

He had been crying. 

Annabelle hovered by the door awkwardly, even as he beckoned her inside. 

She had hoped that she would rock up to his house, confess her feelings for him, and he would confess his own, and then... well, what? Dance into the sunset? Hear fireworks outside? That wasn't really how things worked, was it? 

Worse yet, she hadn't expected to walk into his home to find tears streaking his face and muffled sobs escaping his lips. 

Almost robotically, she found herself following Luca to the lounge, where she sat on some creaking rocking chair. Luca sat across from her, staring down at his feet. 

Neither of them said a word. 

Annabelle toyed with her hands. Glanced out the window. Hummed an awkward little Christmas carol. 

Finally, as Luca wiped another fresh set of tears from his eyes, she sighed.

Looks like she had to be the one to kick things off.  

"Are you alright?" she asked.

Luca nodded, though he didn't look up at her. "Yeah. I've just..." 

"You've been crying." 

"Yeah." 

"Did you and Christina..." 

His brows shot up. "Oh, no. No, no, no. There was a death in the family." 

Annabelle felt that like a pinch to her own guts. 

He had lost family. He had been suffering all morning silently, and she hadn't been there to help him. 

"I'm so sorry, Luca," she whispered. "I'm really sorry for your loss. Can I ask who it was?" 

"Scabious." 

"As in... your turtle?" 

Luca nodded solemnly. For half of a frantic second, Annabelle thought he was joking. 

When he choked back on another sob, she nearly let her jaw drop. 

This man was entirely serious.

He was devastated because his turtle had died. And, here she was, wanting to tell him that she had feelings for him. Was it the wrong time? Or would he be fine about it? Did it sound ridiculous if she told him, when he had spent the morning possibly crying about some green-shelled-slimy-thing that existed in his bedroom for a few months?

"Do you want a hug?" Annabelle finally asked him. 

"Yeah. A hug would be nice." 

Instantly, she was on her feet, reaching out to envelop her arms around him. 

It felt good, hugging him. Like something was fitting into place. Like her arms just knew where to go, and the warmth his brought was exactly what she needed. His breath on the back of her neck, and the softness of his fingers as he ran them down her back--

Annabelle felt a shiver crawl up her spine.

His turtle just died. And here she was, turned on by a hug that was supposed to be a mourning hug. 

What was wrong with her? 

"I'm sorry about Scabious," she told him.

She felt him lean into her a bit more as he said, "Me too. He was a very good turtle." 

"We didn't even get to eat his grandmother." 

His arms dropped from around her. Even his face had gone completely white. 

"Oh, sorry," Annabelle quickly said. "Too soon to make jokes like that. Got it." 

But Luca was staring at her, his gaze running her up and down. She was in probably the worst clothing to tell someone she liked them -- tattered track pants, an old top that slipped off one of her shoulders, and the fluffiest pink socks she owned. 

"Why are you here, Annabelle?" he suddenly said. "I like you being here, of course, but what brought you here?" 

"Um..." 

Was now her chance? Just tell him that, Hey, I think you're super cute? 

Would he be hurt that she would tell him that, while he was mourning for a dead turtle? 

Would it make him feel better, and remind him that he was loved? 

"Well," Annabelle began. "I..." 

The doorbell made a sharp ring. From the corner of her eye, Annabelle saw Luca's girlfriend, Christina, by the window. Her perfect blonde highlights. Her beautiful, toned skin. Her proper, classy dress. 

Luca was already racing for the door when Annabelle suddenly took a sharp breath. 

"Luca, I really like you." 

He froze, his hand on the doorknob. "That's great, Annabelle. I really like you too, obviously. Otherwise, we wouldn't be friends--" 

"No. I really like like you." 

"...Oh." 

"Yeah. Oh." 

"Wait, so you really..." 

Annabelle threw up her hands. "Yes. I know. The timing is terrible. I know your turtle just died but I really like you." 

At that moment, Luca twisted the knob open. Christina rushed in, drawing Luca into her arms, holding him tight. 

"Oh, Luca, baby," she was saying. "I'm so sorry about Scabious." 

She had brought flowers. Even a small little box, which Annabelle realised was supposed to be a coffin. 

Annabelle stared blankly as Luca fell into Christina's arms. 

Seriously? 

A turtle coffin? 

How was she supposed to top that?

She wondered what was going through Luca's head as he sobbed against Christina's shoulders. He looked completely deflated and lost, his green eyes watering and his breaths weak. 

Had he been shocked by her confession? Or had he known, all along, that she had feelings for him? 

Had he felt anything in return? Ever? 

Annabelle stared at the pair as they cradled each other. 

For a moment, she felt a heavy slam of loneliness throughout her body. Giant and demanding, like a tidal wave by her heart. 

Then, as Christina cradled him, a small smile found its way onto Annabelle's lips. 

They looked happy. 

They were happy.

And, for some reason, that made her feel happy. 

Annabelle decided to leave Luca's home and give the couple some peace and quiet to mourn over Scabious, the turtle she had never met. 

She had to admit -- Candy had been right. Even though the circumstances were awful and Luca's response had left her with more questions than answers, it had felt good to say the words aloud. Even if they landed nowhere but an abyss of space and hurt, at least it was no longer churning within her.

It was out there. It was free. 

Besides, Luca hadn't seemed too upset or mad. Confused, sure. Crying over his dead turtle, definitely. But she doubted he would end their entire friendship over it. Right? Right? 

When she got to her apartment, though, she felt a buzz on her phone.

From Tinder. 

From Luca. 

And, as she read his text, she felt like her face had been slapped. 

I'm sorry, Annabelle. I just don't think we can be friends. 

Kind regards, 

Luca