It all started with a simple conversation. Well, at least I thought it was simple.
One evening, my best friend Ava and I were sitting on the rooftop of our apartment building, watching the city lights flicker like scattered stars. It was one of those moments where you felt small in the grand scheme of things but comforted by the presence of someone who just gets you.
Ava had been my best friend for years. We had one of those rare friendships where we could talk about anything—family drama, stupid jokes, existential crises, and, well, emotions. Or so I thought.
“Do you ever feel like we don’t talk about our emotions enough?” I asked absentmindedly, sipping on my soda.
Ava turned her head to look at me, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, we talk about everything, but I feel like we always kind of skim over the deep emotional stuff. You know, like… how we actually feel about things.”
Ava was silent for a second, then nodded. “I guess. But we talk about emotions, don’t we? Like when you were upset about your job last month or when I ranted about my family.”
I shook my head. “That’s different. That’s venting. I’m talking about, like, the deep stuff. The stuff that makes us who we are. The things we’re scared to admit.”
Ava’s expression shifted slightly, something unreadable flashing across her face. “Oh. That kind of emotions.”
She looked out at the cityscape again, her fingers tapping lightly against the rooftop’s edge. I thought maybe she wasn’t in the mood for this conversation, so I was about to change the subject when she said, “Okay. If we’re doing this, then you go first.
I blinked. “Wait, what?”
“You brought it up,” she said, turning back to me. “So, go on. Tell me something deep about yourself. Something you’re scared to admit.”
I hesitated. I wasn’t expecting to go first. But this was my idea, wasn’t it? I took a deep breath. “Alright. Well… I guess I’m scared that no matter what I do in life, it’ll never be enough. Like, I’ll always feel like I’m chasing something I can’t reach.”
Ava studied me for a moment, then gave a small nod. “That makes sense.”
“That’s it?” I laughed nervously. “No deep revelation, no words of wisdom?”
She smirked. “I thought we were just sharing, not fixing.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Your turn.”
She inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly, as if bracing herself. “I’m scared of losing people. Like, I act all chill and independent, but honestly? The idea of people leaving me freaks me out.”
I tilted my head. “You never really talk about that.”
“Yeah, because it’s easier to pretend I don’t care,” she admitted with a small shrug. “But I do.”
We sat in silence for a moment, letting the words linger. It felt… nice. Like we had unlocked a new level of understanding.
But then, before I could say anything, Ava did something unexpected. She looked me straight in the eye and said, “Alright, let’s make it harder.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Harder?”
She nodded. “Let’s ask each other something specific. No vague ‘what are you afraid of’ questions. Something rea
I hesitated but then nodded. “Okay. You go first.”
Ava thought for a second, then smirked slightly. “What’s something you’ve never told me because you were afraid it would change our friendship?”
I felt my stomach drop. Why did she have to be so good at this?
I swallowed, suddenly feeling warm despite the cool night air. “Um…” I fidgeted with the hem of my hoodie. “Okay. Uh, remember that time we went to that dumb party sophomore year, and we both said we didn’t have fun?”
“Yeah,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “What about it?”
I sighed. “I actually had fun. Because of you. We spent most of the night just talking on the porch, and I remember thinking… I don’t know, that I was really happy to be there. With you.”
Ava stared at me, and I immediately regretted saying it.
“Wait,” she said slowly. “Are you saying—”
“No, I mean, yes, but not in a weird way! Or maybe—ugh.” I groaned, covering my face. “I was talking about our emotions 😳…”
Ava burst out laughing. “Oh my god, you’re blushing.”
“I am NOT,” I protested, even though my face felt like it was on fire.
She nudged me playfully. “So what you’re saying is… you actually liked spending time with me?”
I peeked at her from behind my hands. “Shocking, right?”
She grinned. “A little bit.”
I groaned again. “Okay, your turn. Since we’re being all honest and vulnerable and stuff.”
She bit her lip, as if debating whether to say something. Then, with a soft sigh, she said, “Fine. That night? I felt the same way. I didn’t care about the party. I just wanted to be around you.”
My heart did something weird. Like a little flip. But I played it cool. “Oh. Cool.”
She rolled her eyes. “Cool?”
“What, did you expect me to write you a poem on the spot?”
“I mean, that would be nice,” she teased.
We laughed, and the tension eased. But something had shifted between us. Not in a bad way—just different. Like we had opened a door that neither of us had realized was there before.
We spent the rest of the night talking about other things—memories, dreams, things we never admitted before. It was one of the most real conversations I had ever had.
And maybe, just maybe, it changed something.
But for now, I was just happy to know that no matter what, Ava was still my best friend.
Even if I had totally embarrassed myself in the process.
