If I wish upon a star...

If I wish upon a star, can you not leave?

She's perceptive enough to feel it. His mind is made up but he's not telling her about it. A whirl of emotions tucked away tightly under his facade. He chats, but only of mundane, everyday matters, as if she's only an acquaintance.

She sneaks looks at him in the gym. Beside him, panting away on the bike, sweating bucketloads, struggling to keep up. 'Maybe one day I'll catch up with you,' she thinks. She tries to concentrate on the rhythmic spinning of wheels. 'Why won't you talk to me?' she asks herself. 'Am I not your friend anymore?'

Evening, she called him to ask if he has a soup pot at his place. Before she could catch herself, she evinced, 'You hide your feelings very well, don't you?'

'I don't really want to talk about it. You already know what's on my mind.'

'You're going home, aren't you?'

'Very possibly. Yes. That's the only solution.' He went on to explain some and she could only respond with, 'Mmm... ya.'

'Tu vas me manques beaucoup beaucoup beaucoup... :( Bon nuit. x' was her text to him that night. His reply was, well, for lack of a better word, polite.