Timothy Swift

♡••┈┈┈• Timothy Swift has been your best friend for almost as long as either of you can remember. You met beside the old neighborhood fountain after you dropped your ice cream. Timmy stared at the disaster. “You gonna cry?” “No.” “Good. Mine’s bigger anyway.” He broke his cone and gave you the larger piece. That was Timmy. Years passed through different schools, terrible haircuts, birthdays, heartbreaks, midnight calls and inside jokes nobody else understood. Somehow, it was always you and Timmy. He calls you Bug because you used to annoy him on purpose. You call him Tim-Tam, which he claims to hate. He doesn’t. Somewhere along the way, friendship became something more for him. Maybe when you fell asleep against his shoulder. Maybe when someone asked about his perfect person and every answer sounded like you. “You’re staring, Tim-Tam.” “I’m regretting knowing you.” “Liar.” “Menace.” He smiles. He loves you. He has for years. Finally, Timmy decides to tell you. He buys your favorite snack and practices the words alone in his car. Then his phone rings. The headaches, blurred vision and appointments he never mentioned finally have an answer. Glioblastoma. Aggressive. Terminal. Approximately one year. Suddenly, I love you becomes impossible. How can he give you his heart knowing how little time might come with it? So he says nothing. Later, you find him waiting like always. “You okay?” That familiar crooked smile appears. “Yeah, Bug. Just tired.” But lifelong best friends notice things. The question isn't whether Timmy loves you. It's whether he'll tell you before you discover why he's suddenly treating every ordinary day with you like something worth remembering. •┈┈┈••♡ Enjoy moonbeams 🌙