He peered through the window as he turned off the TV. His eyes darted around, watching the flurry of activity outside. It had just stopped raining as the room gradually fell silent. It’s as if the volume was on mute as he saw cars going by, people walking around, and building lights flicker. Clouds now partly covered the full moon as it gave off a weak, yet distinct radiant glow beneath it. He then leaned back, closed his eyes and let out a slow sigh.

The opening of the door broke the silence as his friend came in. He still lay there, motionless as his friend stopped suddenly upon seeing him. The awkward resumption of silence was only interrupted by his sudden burst of laughter, when he could not contain it any longer. “Just shut the door, will ‘ya?,” he added, still laughing. His friend joined in the laughter as he closed the door using a foot, as both hands were holding plastic bags.

“I thought you were–” the friend started to talk as he continued to go inside.

“Nah, I just finished something on Netflix,” was his quick interruption.

“Oh, what’d you watch?” the friend asked.

“Serendipity. Before that, Notting Hill,” was his reply. He then asked, “what in the hell took you so long?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, it was pouring out. I didn’t have an umbrella with me, so I had to wait it out. Do you really want me to get drenched?” the friend laughingly asked as he was thrown a small bag.

He tried to shield himself playfully as the bag came flying to him. “Seriously? Yes,” he replied laughing. “No, no, no, seriously? Absolutely!” More laughter ensued.

“What did you get me?,” he then asked as he tried to settle down. “See for yourself,” the friend said in reply. “Nah, I know it’s all good. Thank you,” he said back, clutching the bag.

His friend pulled up a chair beside him. He looked back at the window and saw that the clouds had parted; and the moon was as bright as ever. As his friend was going through some of the other items in the second bag, he asked, “do you have any regrets?”

“What? What are you talking about?” came the friend’s reply.

“You heard me. Do you have any regrets?”

His friend was a bit flustered coming up with an answer. “Yeah, I guess, maybe a few,” was the stammered answer that came out. And then added, “c’mon, you know me and my story. I’d suppose you know whether or not the things I did or did not are… the kind of ones I would regret.”

He gave a wry smile and nodded as his friend was talking. At that moment, his mind was racing through different things he’d done. Some good, some not. “How about you? Any regrets?,” he was then asked.

“Me? Nah,” was the quick answer. He then continued, “I never fully understood the concept of having regrets. I mean, sure, you can be sorry for some of the things you did or did not do. But to have that feeling of deep down inside, wishing you either did not do this or did that; to the point that it eats you up inside? Whatever the action was, it already happened. You can’t change it, or even go back in time to change it. All you can do is move on, live with it and learn from it. Having regrets is like slapping a teacher in the face for trying to give you a lesson you needed to learn. Or at least that’s how I see it.”

After a brief silence, he slid back, his mind deep in thought. He went on, “I’m not perfect. No one is. I was raised well enough to know good from bad, to trust my instincts, draw from experience, and follow what my heart says. You know that, right?,” he asked as he looked at this friend in the eye.

His friend gave a slow nod. As a witness to most of his life’s exploits, what he went through was stuff movies are made of. His friend would always say, “you can’t write this shit up,” as he told almost every life-experience he had. Especially the trying ones.

“I mean, c’mon, there’s gotta be something that’s… well… there must be at least one thing, at least one, that should I say, come close to being a regret, isn’t there?,” the friend asked.

He gave a heavy sigh as he tried to think. He thought long and hard, went back through some of the most ugly, embarrassing, painful, and even the fucked up experiences he’s had. “No, nothing,” came the reply. “I suppose I’m not built that way,” he added.

“How about not telling her?,” his friend then asked.

“Wait, what? Her? Why would I tell her?,” he asked back.

“Because that’s what you need to do. Or, rather, needed.”

“Look, we’ve been over this several times. Yes, I do need to tell her. But the right thing to do is to not tell her. There’s just too much at stake. Besides, you and I both know that nothing–and I mean absolutely nothing–will ever come out of it. I’m not the type of guy she wants,” he said in frustration.

“How do you even know that? You told me the things she’s looking for in a guy, and you have almost everything, especially the major ones that are the deal-sealers. So what do you mean you’re not the type of guy for her?,” the friend asked back in frustration.

“Look, having what you want in a person is one thing. Being attracted to the person who has what you want is a completely different story. And I’m the completely different story with the ending that comes up short.”

“How can you know for sure if you don’t tell her?”

“And risk turning something that we have into completely nothing with me wondering why? Listen, I’ve been in one too many of these scenarios to know better. And this, this is something that I don’t need to see through. I… I just won’t be able to handle it if I tell her and things go south. No… I’ve bled and cried enough times. Never again,” he ended as a tear ran down his cheek.

Silence fell into the room. His friend leaned back at the chair and looked at him as he tried to make himself more comfortable. Right then, the rain started to fall again. What was awkward silence was suddenly filled with the sound of water drops pelting the window.

“Do you think she knows?,” he then asked, breaking the uneasiness. “Or at least has an idea?”

“It’s kinda hard to tell, to be honest,” his friend replied. “I mean, you’ve always been there for her, you get along well, she trusts you, she’s probably comfortable being around you… I mean… who knows… Maybe?,” added the friend.

“I can settle with ‘maybe,'” he said back. “At least I’ve done right by her, put her interests first, and not really aiming something for myself, you know? I suppose that’s enough.” He added, “if only I had enough time…” and trailed off as he became lost in thought and started to become drowsy.

His friend tried to catch his attention by asking, “hey, what do you think she’s doing right now?”

He slowly looked back at his friend, saying, “her? Really?” The friend nodded in agreement.

“Probably fucking the brains out of some guy,” he answered, laughing sheepishly as exhaustion crept up. “You really can’t keep her out any conversation we have, can you?,” he asked.

“I’m your friend. You know I’ll always mess with you; especially when it comes to her,” replied the friend.

“Remember that,” he said back, his eyes slowly blinking as he tried to stay awake. “And you know what to do,” he added as he straightened his head. “She was something though, right?,” he asked, struggling to finish the question.

“Indeed she was,” replied the friend.

He raised his shoulder a bit and went back down, trying to fix his posture. In a slow, slurred manner, he said, “yep, she was. But maybe not as fascinating as her. Not by a long shot. Maybe.”

He tried to look back at his friend, saying, “could you do me a favor?,” he asked as he exhaled.

“Okay,” the friend replied, wiith head bowed down.

Silence followed as the rain stopped again. Suddenly, the door opened and a woman hurriedly came in, dripping wet from the rain. His friend, teary-eyed, looked up with disappointment at the woman.

“You’re too late. He’s gone.”