He had been studying her features for hours on end. He knew every freckle, every strand of hair that was out of place and now he knew how salty tears would slowly roll down her cheeks. She was his best friend, the apple of his eye.

'He may not be my favourite person,' he broke off mid-sentence, stroking her hair gently, holding her, 'but you are,' swallowing hard, already regretting the yet unspoken words, 'and I just wish that he still loved you,' he let out a shaky sigh, 'cause I can't stand seeing you like this,' he mumbled silently.