Fiction! How Much of Your Love can I Borrow

The rain lashed against the café window, blurring the world outside into a watercolour mess. Inside, Amelia huddled deeper into her oversized scarf, the steam from her chamomile tea battling the chill that had seeped into her bones. It wasn't just the weather though; a hollowness echoed in her chest, a hollowness that had become a constant companion since Liam's sudden departure two weeks ago.

Liam, the boy with eyes the colour of storm clouds and a laugh that could chase away any darkness. They'd been inseparable since childhood, their friendship blossoming into a love as comforting as a worn blanket. Then, his dream job offer arrived, a one-way ticket to London, a world away. He'd left with promises of forever, yet a gnawing doubt gnawed at Amelia.

Forever felt a long way off on a rainy Tuesday afternoon.
A low chuckle drifted across the table, pulling Amelia from her thoughts. Ethan, her best friend since they were knee-high, sat across from her, a mischievous glint in his hazel eyes.
"Still lost in Liamland?" he teased.

Amelia forced a smile. "Just reminiscing about warmer days."
Ethan wasn't fooled. He knew her too well, the way her smile didn't quite reach her eyes, the way her gaze kept flickering towards the window. A comfortable silence settled, punctuated only by the rhythmic drumming of rain on the glass.

"How much of your love can I borrow, Amelia?" Ethan's question, soft and unexpected, shattered the silence.
Amelia's head snapped up, brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"
Ethan sighed, tracing circles on the condensation-coated mug. "You're drowning, Amelia. I see it in your eyes. You need someone to hold onto, someone to remind you of the sunshine even when it's raining."

His words struck a chord deep within her. It was true. She was adrift, clinging to memories like a life raft.
"But Liam..." she stammered, her voice thick with emotion.
"Liam is following his dreams," Ethan said gently. "But that doesn't mean you have to put your life on hold. You deserve happiness, Amelia. Right now."

His words resonated. Did she have to paint her world grey just because Liam was chasing rainbows across the ocean?
The following weeks were a blur of tentative steps – walks in the park under skies that were starting to show a hint of blue, impromptu movie nights filled with Ethan's goofy jokes that always managed to make her laugh, late-night talks where they dissected their dreams and fears under the soft glow of fairy lights strung across Ethan's room.

Ethan was a constant presence, a warm sunbeam breaking through the clouds. He didn't try to replace Liam, didn't pressure her to forget. He simply offered a shoulder to lean on, a hand to hold when the storm threatened to return.

One particularly gloomy day, as they wandered through a bustling street market, a melody from a street musician caught Amelia's attention. It was their song, the one they'd danced to on that starlit summer night when they confessed their feelings. A bittersweet ache flooded through her.

Noticing her emotional shift, Ethan squeezed her hand gently. "It's okay, Amelia," he murmured, his voice a steady anchor in the storm brewing inside her. "Let it out."
Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over unchecked. In Ethan's arms, amidst the cacophony of the market, she found solace. He held her, not with the possessiveness of a lover, but with the comforting strength of a friend, a haven in the storm.

As the weeks turned into months, a new warmth bloomed in Amelia's heart. It wasn't the same fiery passion she'd shared with Liam, but it was a steady, reliable glow. Ethan's love was a comfortable sweater, a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day, a presence that made her feel safe and cherished.

One evening, as they sat by the river, watching the last rays of the setting sun paint the sky in hues of orange and pink, Ethan spoke. "You don't have to keep returning what I borrowed, Amelia." His gaze held a vulnerability that made her heart skip a beat.
Amelia understood. This wasn't borrowed love anymore. It was a new chapter, a love story written not in stolen moments but in shared dreams, quiet understanding, and unwavering support.

Taking a deep breath, she intertwined her fingers with his. "Maybe I don't want to," she admitted, a smile blooming on her face. "Maybe, just maybe, this is exactly what I need right now."
The setting sun cast a golden glow on their intertwined hands, a silent promise of a love built not on borrowed moments, but on the quiet strength of being there,