LAU

꧁𝐀𝐥𝐛𝐮𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭꧂ － 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 (𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭)

➾ 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 (𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐱𝐞) 𝐛𝐲 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐞 𝐀𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐬

➾ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐤𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞 (𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐱𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧) 𝐛𝐲 𝐓𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐭

➾ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒(𝐄𝐗) 𝐓𝐀𝐏𝐄𝐒 𝐛𝐲 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

➾ 𝐆𝐔𝐓𝐒 (𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝) 𝐛𝐲 𝐎𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐨

➾ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐎𝐟 𝐔𝐬 (𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐱𝐞) 𝐛𝐲 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐞 𝐀𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐬

➾ 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐧’ 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 (𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐱𝐞) 𝐛𝐲 𝐒𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

➾ 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐛𝐲 𝐎𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐚 𝐑𝐨𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐨

➾ 𝐄𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐰𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐒𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫

➾ 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐞 𝐀𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐬

➾ 𝐊𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐲𝐞) 𝐛𝐲 𝐑𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐥

꧁𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭꧂

꧁𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬꧂

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you reflect on a toxic relationship with Matt, where love turned cold and emotional manipulation left deep scars. Through flashbacks and heartbreak, you grapple with the painful truth. Matt loved you, then pretended he didn’t… and never looked back.

One year, ten thousand bad moments

But it was dressed up in heated emotion

And I tried to look for the best in the worst

But like, fuck me, that caused a commotion

The door clicks behind me. Not slammed, Matt never slams doors, but the soft, final sound of something closing. My fingers twitch at my sides. I could reach for him. I’ve done it a hundred times. A hand on his arm, a whisper, the silence that follows like an apology in a language only we know.

But I don’t move.

The room is too quiet. The kind of quiet where your own heartbeat becomes company. Where everything echoes. His cologne still lingers in the air, but it’s fading. Like everything else.

Flashback

We’re lying on his carpet, backs against the couch, both of us drunk on Arizona iced tea and leftover adrenaline. His hand rests lazily over mine, thumb brushing rhythmically against my knuckles. I’m talking about something dumb, how I once thought the moon followed me as a kid, and he laughs, loud and soft all at once.

“You’re weird,” he says, but there’s warmth in it.

“You like it.”

He doesn’t deny it. Just nudges me with his shoulder, like that’s an answer. Like I should know he does.

And I did. Back then, I did.

I tried to look for the best in the worst. In the way he forgot things that mattered to me. In the way his phone lit up with names I didn’t know and his voice got cold when I asked. I told myself love was layered. That heat didn’t always mean fire. But I was wrong.

So wrong, it burned.

You're lucky I'm a private person

I've quietly carried your burden

And everyone thinks you're an angel

But shit, I would probably use different wording

I haven’t told anyone. Not Madi, not even the group chat that exists solely for gossip and emotional venting. Not because I’m in denial. No, I know exactly what happened.

I’m just tired of carrying him twice. Once in reality, and now in memory.

At the party last week, someone said, “Matt? God, he’s so grounded. Like, one of the good ones, you know?”

I smiled. Nodded. Even toasted to it.

Because what do you say? Actually, he’s a liar in pretty packaging? That he says things like he means them until the moment he doesn’t?

Instead, I swallow the bitterness like it’s wine. Tilt my head. Smile with my teeth.

People love him. And maybe that’s the cruelest part.

He walks into a room and people lean in. He knows exactly how to be soft, how to be charming without meaning a damn thing by it. His kindness is a performance no one else notices is hollow.

But I know. I’ve seen the backstage. The bruised dressing rooms. The discarded script of “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Oh, you're so vicious

Love me, then pretend you didn't

Crush my heart and wreck my image

Why you gotta be so vicious?

He texts me. Not a full sentence. Not even punctuation.

You okay?

I stare at it. My thumb hovers. He’s probably on his bed, phone in one hand, music playing in the background, something moody to match his aesthetic. Maybe he even believes he’s checking in because he cares.

But he doesn’t. Not really. If he did, he wouldn’t have kissed me like I meant something one night and ghosted me like I didn’t the next.

I don’t answer. Instead, I throw my phone under the pillow like it might explode.

It’s like he loved me in private, but the moment the world tilted slightly, he acted like I was a footnote. Like everything between us was imagined.

The first time we kissed, he’d looked at me like I was a revelation. Said my name like a secret prayer. But now, he pretends he never did any of it.

He’s not cruel in the obvious ways. No yelling. No broken glass. Just silence. Disinterest. Revisionist history.

And somehow, that hurts more.

You like a certain type of woman

Who's smart but neglects intuition

When you're insecure, could be me, could be her

You just run to whoever is winning

It clicks, suddenly. The pattern.

They all look different. Blonde, brunette, short, tall but they all bend. That’s the thing. They all bend for him. For his hot-and-cold affection, for the way he leans close when he talks and makes you feel chosen.

He doesn’t want smart. Not really. He wants sweet. Quiet. Curious but not questioning. He wants girls who love potential more than reality.

And I was perfect for that. At first.

I should’ve seen it. The moment I pushed back, challenged him on something, asked too many “why”s he started to fade. Not dramatically. Just enough. Replies got shorter. He stopped calling first. Smiled less.

Flashback

We’re in his car. It’s raining. One of those thick, rhythmic drizzles that makes everything feel cinematic.

“I don’t like when you do that,” I say, looking straight ahead.

He doesn’t look at me. “Do what?”

“Shut down. Like I’m the enemy.”

“I’m not shutting down,” he says, flat. “You’re just making this a bigger deal than it is.”

That’s when I knew. Not that he didn’t care. But that he cared in the way someone does when they only know how to love themselves.

Said that it was me and you for life

Now you're kinda actin' like I died

His words replay like old voicemails. Me and you, for life.

We were wrapped in blankets on his couch, half-asleep, a movie playing at low volume. He said it like it wasn’t even a promise, just a truth, obvious and immutable.

“You and me,” he said, half-smiling, “we’re gonna look back at this and laugh someday.”

I remember feeling warm all over. Like I had roots. Like someone had finally said the words I’d been writing in my own mind for months.

Now, he acts like I died.

I pass him in the hallway of some friend’s house and he barely blinks. His mouth twitches upward, like politeness is a reflex, not a choice. No conversation. No recognition.

Just… vacancy.

Love me, then pretend you didn't

Half of me just can't resist it

Why you gotta be so vicious?

I still check his Instagram. I hate myself for it, but I do.

Every post is a punch. Smiling with new people. His hair a little messier, his captions just vague enough to feel like riddles.

People comment: King, Love u bro, Cutie alert.

I scroll, heart clenched, stomach in knots. Half of me still clings to the version of him who wrote poetry in margins of his notebooks. Who called me in the middle of the night just to hear my voice. Who said I was his muse.

But the other half knows better.

I remember every time he made me feel small. Like I was asking for too much just by wanting consistency. Like my feelings were inconvenient background noise to his curated aesthetic.

And yet, if he walked in right now and said my name with that voice of his?

God help me, I’d probably still answer.

You don't feel remorse, you don't feel the effects

'Cause you don't think you hurt me if you wish me the best

I shoulda known all along, I was only the next one

To take your love songs as a promise

He’s good at pretending. Even now. He probably tells himself we were just a moment. A mistake. Something fleeting that doesn’t warrant regret.

He posted a story the other day. Song lyrics over a black screen. It said “Hope you’re doing well, even if I’m not.”

I wanted to scream. Not because it hurt. But because it was so performative. Like he needed people to think he had depth. Like he was the one broken.

But he’s fine. I see it in his photos, his filtered laughs. He’s not haunted. He’s not unraveling. He’s thriving in a version of reality where I never mattered.

And I… still here. Still digging him out of my skin like glass shards. Still wondering if I was just the next one.

The placeholder. The temporary fix until someone better walked in.

Oh, you're so vicious

I loved you but I wish I didn't

If you're out there somewhere listenin'

Why you gotta be so vicious?

If I could write him a letter, I’d say this:

I loved you. Really loved you. Not in the way people do in passing, but in that messy, all-consuming way that makes songs make sense. I saw galaxies in your eyes. I memorized your laugh like scripture.

And you smiled, took it, and walked away.

If you’re out there, somewhere, listening, Why? Why did you build me up with words you didn’t mean? Why did you act like I was home, then treat me like a stranger?

You’re so vicious. And you don’t even know it.

I wish I didn’t love you.

I wish I’d never met you.

But mostly. I wish you hadn’t pretended to love me back.

꧁𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩꧂

Are you gonna kiss me?

'Cause you're taking me home

It's four in the morning

Are we doing this wrong?

Your breath fogs the passenger window as Chris pulls into your driveway. The headlights carve twin lines down your street, cutting the silence in half. His fingers tap the steering wheel. Twice, pause, then again. His usual rhythm when he’s thinking too much.

Inside the car, it’s quiet. Not awkward, not yet, but heavy in the way warm tension can be. You don’t move to unbuckle your seatbelt. He doesn’t lean over to say goodbye. You both just sit there, watching your reflection in the dashboard lights.

His knuckles are white against the wheel. Yours are clenched in your lap.

“Are you gonna kiss me?” you ask, voice too soft but steady.

Chris flinches. Not visibly, not dramatically, but you see the way his throat tightens when he swallows. “Y/N…”

“It’s four in the morning,” you add, turning to face him now. The porch light is off. Nobody’s watching. “You’re taking me home. We’re not just friends doing this.”

His jaw shifts, eyes flickering to your lips, then away again. “Are we doing this wrong?”

You shrug, leaning back into the headrest. “Probably.”

But still, neither of you move.

This weekend I saw you

Through eyes that are new

You got me falling for you

And I kinda want to (want to)

You see him differently now.

It started Saturday. One of those group hangs where you ended up sitting across from each other on the living room floor, legs stretched out, sharing one of those throw pillows that’s too small to matter but you both use it anyway.

The others were shouting over each other, but you were watching Chris. His laugh wasn’t as loud, but the corners of his mouth curled with real amusement. You noticed how he brushed his hair back when he was nervous, how he watched people when he thought no one was watching him.

And for a second, you imagined his fingers brushing your cheek instead of his own hair. Your head resting on his shoulder instead of this stupid pillow.

That night, he offered to walk you to your car. “You okay?”

You nodded, unlocking the door. But then you turned and looked at him like it was the first time. “I think I see you now.”

He tilted his head, brow furrowing. “What do you mean?”

You didn’t answer. Just smiled and got in.

But he didn’t look away until your car disappeared down the block.

Let's fuck up the friendship

Come get in my head

Baby, cut the tension

I'm hung by a thread

Maybe it's something

But let's not pretend

Or maybe it's nothing

And this is the end

The next day you hang out again.

The silence stretches now in the car like a second skin. You’re both breathing carefully, like louder exhalations might shatter what little distance is left between you.

Chris finally speaks, voice hoarse. “Y/N, if we do this…”

You lean in. “Then we do it. All of it.”

His eyes meet yours, something wild behind them. “We ruin it.”

“Maybe it’s already ruined.”

The space between you disappears in a heartbeat. His hand is on your cheek, thumb grazing your jaw. His lips hover just inches away, his breath shaky against your skin.

“Fuck it,” he mutters, and then your mouths collide. Desperate, clumsy, like you’ve both waited too long and not long enough.

His kiss is everything. Confusion, fear, want. It pulls you under and leaves you breathless.

The friendship snaps in two with the soundless crack of your heart leaping.

We could never be (oh, no)

We could never be friends

We could never be (oh, no)

We could never be friends

Afterward, you sit in the silence of your room. Clothes rumpled, lips bruised from too many stolen moments, the taste of him still on your tongue.

Chris is next to you, shirtless and unsure. You both stare at the ceiling like it holds the answers.

You say, “That didn’t feel like nothing.”

He’s quiet, arms crossed over his chest. “No. It didn’t.”

“But this can’t go back to what it was.”

He nods. “We could never be friends again. Not after this.”

The truth hangs there, raw and heavy. Neither of you knows what to say, so you don’t.

It got kind of scary

My bones always knew

Oh, I didn't mean to

Are you feeling this, too?

It’s scary because it’s real.

You’d always known, deep down. The way your stomach flipped when he’d laugh at your jokes, the way you felt safest when he stood close in a crowd.

Your bones always knew before your heart caught up.

But now, in the aftermath, your chest aches with questions. Did he feel it too, or was it just heat and timing?

Chris watches you from across the room, sitting on the edge of your bed like he might bolt at any second. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he whispers.

You cross your arms. “But you don’t regret it.”

He finally looks up, eyes soft. “Do you?”

“No.” It comes too quickly. “I just… don’t know what happens now.”

Tell me what you mean

Is it all me?

Start to overthink everything

When you're close to me, I can't breathe

We're already six-feet deep

You don’t talk for three days. Not out of anger, out of paralysis.

Then he shows up at your door, hoodie pulled tight, hands in his pockets like he’s shielding himself.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you say.

He steps inside. “You’ve been quiet.”

You sit opposite each other like the space between is a battlefield. You fiddle with a bracelet on your wrist. “Tell me what you want, Chris.”

“I don’t know.” He rubs his temple. “I think about you constantly. I think about that night. About how I felt when I kissed you. But then I think about losing you, and I… I start to overthink everything.”

You reach for him. “When you’re close to me, I can’t breathe. But when you’re far, it’s worse.”

His hand wraps around yours. “We’re already six-feet deep, aren’t we?”

You nod. “Might as well keep digging.”

On the edge of my seat

I'll wait for the outcome

If we ever have one (if we ever have one)

Let me take the lead

You follow me closely

But come on and show me (come on and show me)

You spend the weekend together. No labels. No rules. Just time.

The tension is there, but so is comfort. An odd mix of anticipation and ease.

You take the lead. Grabbing his hand when you’re out, guiding him by the collar when he hesitates at your door. But he follows you, always close, like you’re gravity.

Still, you wait for a sign, a signal that this is more than stolen nights and silent mornings.

“Are we heading somewhere?” you ask one evening, curled into his chest on your couch.

He hesitates. “I’m trying. I’m just not good at… showing things.”

You sit up. “Then show me now. Something.”

Chris cups your face, tilting your chin up until your eyes meet. “This? You? It’s not nothing.”

He doesn’t kiss you right away. He just looks at you like he’s memorizing something he’s afraid to forget.

And then he leans in, and the world falls away.

Let's fuck up the friendship

Come get in my head

Baby, cut the tension

I'm hung by a thread

Maybe it's something

But let's not pretend

Or maybe it's nothing

And this is the end (woo!)

It becomes a pattern. Quiet nights, loud silences, your bodies seeking each other like it’s the only way to speak.

The friendship? It’s long gone. Whatever you’ve built now is built on tension and longing and something terrifyingly close to love.

Chris tangles his fingers in your hair one night, breath hot against your ear. “This scares me.”

“Me too.”

You roll over to face him. “But I’d rather risk the fall than pretend we’re still just friends.”

He lets out a low laugh, tired and soft. “I’m hung by a thread, Y/N.”

You rest your forehead against his. “Then fall with me. Either it’s something… or it ends here.”

He kisses you like it’s both.

We could never be (oh, no)

We could never be friends

We could never be (oh, no)

We could never be friends (friends)

In the morning, the sun spills across tangled sheets. Chris watches you sleep for a long time before you stir.

Your eyes blink open, and you find him already looking. You smile.

“Morning.”

“Hey.”

You sit up, brushing your hair back, and he leans over to tuck a strand behind your ear.

“Still scared?” you ask.

He nods. “But I want this. I want you.”

You exhale slowly, leaning into his touch. “We could never be friends again.”

“Good,” Chris says. “Because I don’t want a friend anymore.”

And when he kisses you again, it’s the start of something completely, utterly new.

꧁𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲꧂

You know you love me (Yo), I know you care (Uh-huh)

Just shout whenever (Yo), and I'll be there (Uh-huh)

You are my love (Yo), you are my heart (Uh-huh)

And we will never, ever, ever be apart (Yo, uh-huh)

She texts me “I’m bored. Entertain me.” That’s it. No greeting. No emoji. Like she knows I’ll drop everything for her, and the worst part is, she’s right.

I’m already halfway out the door before I even realize it, hoodie tugged on, car keys swinging from my fingers. She does this all the time. Pulls me in like gravity, effortless. No matter what I’m doing, she becomes the center of my world.

Y/N’s waiting on her front porch with that look she always gives me when she knows she’s won. Her knees are drawn up to her chest, hoodie sleeves covering her hands. It’s one of mine. Blue, oversized, worn-in. And it makes something in my chest twist.

“I was serious about the entertaining,” she says, grinning as she walks up to my car. “You’re on call, you know.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Like I’d ever say no.”

She doesn’t answer, just slides into the passenger seat and kicks her feet up on the dash like it’s her car, like this is us and not some weird purgatory of almost-something. She leans her head against the window and hums low under her breath.

This isn’t new. This has been our rhythm for years now. Her calling, me coming. No hesitation. No questions. Because she’s my heart, and I don’t even try to hide that anymore. Not from her. Not from anyone.

And she knows it. God, she knows it.

Are we an item? (Yo) Girl, quit playin' (Uh-huh)

We're just friends (Yo), what are you sayin'? (Uh-huh)

Said, "There's another" (Yo), and looked right in my eyes (Uh-huh)

My first love broke my heart for the first time, and I was like (Yo, uh-huh)

“You know,” I say casually, pretending my hands aren’t gripping the steering wheel too tight. “People always ask if we’re dating.”

She smirks. Doesn’t look at me. “What do you tell them?”

I glance sideways, gauging. “I say, ‘Not yet.’”

Y/N finally turns, eyebrows raised, eyes glinting. “Not yet, huh?”

“You saying I’m wrong?”

She leans back, lets her head loll to the side. “I’m saying you’re delusional.”

It’s a joke. But it stings. Not because she doesn’t feel anything, but because she knows I do. And she toys with it like it’s a game.

“You talking to anyone else?” I ask, voice low, like maybe if I say it soft enough, it won’t matter.

She’s quiet. Then, too quiet, says, “There’s someone.”

The air leaves my lungs like a punch. She says it like it’s nothing, like it’s just an answer. But her eyes flick to me fast, waiting for the reaction.

I try to laugh. It cracks halfway. “Damn. Guess I really am delusional.”

She bites her bottom lip. Doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t confirm it. Just looks out the window again and lets the silence between us bloom wide and unbearable.

My first heartbreak isn’t a big dramatic explosion. It’s this. A casual Tuesday night. Her voice soft. And me wishing I hadn’t asked.

Baby, baby, baby, oh

Like baby, baby, baby, no

Like baby, baby, baby, oh

I thought you'd always be mine, mine

I tell myself it’s fine. That this happens. That sometimes people don’t feel the same way.

But she laughs at my jokes like I’m the only one in the room. She remembers every detail I ever told her. Like I can’t sleep with socks on. She texts me first. Wears my clothes. Teases me like she wants me to crack.

So how do I not believe it?

How do I not believe she’s already mine?

“Chris,” she says, voice cutting through the haze in my head, “You’re overthinking again.”

I blink. She’s watching me. Her head tilted, lips curved like she’s daring me to say something stupid.

“What if I told you I wasn’t joking earlier?” I ask.

Her smile falters just a bit. But she recovers fast, standing up straighter. “Then I’d ask what you’re gonna do about it.”

God, she’s infuriating.

And I’m so, so in love with her.

Oh, for you, I would've done whatever (Uh-huh)

And I just can't believe we ain't together (Yo, uh-huh)

And I wanna play it cool (Yo), but I'm losin' you (Uh-huh)

I'll buy you anything (Yo), I'll buy you any ring (Uh-huh)

I used to think there was a timeline to all this. Like we were meant to end up together, but it had to happen in its own time. High school was too early. Maybe after. Maybe once life slowed down.

But now, I’m watching her drift.

Her replies take longer. Her teasing has more edge. There’s someone else’s name slipped into conversations like it doesn’t matter. It does. To me, it does.

And I don’t know how to stop it. I don’t know how to stop losing her.

“I’d do anything for you, you know,” I say one night, staring at the ceiling of her room while she lies next to me on the floor.

She doesn’t answer right away. Just picks at the thread of the rug beneath her fingers.

“I know,” she says finally. “That’s what makes this so hard.”

I turn to look at her. Her eyes are glassy, but she won’t meet mine.

“Then why are you pulling away?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer.

And I can’t help thinking, I’d give her a damn ring if she asked. But it wouldn’t make a difference.

And I'm in pieces (Yo), baby, fix me (Uh-huh)

And just shake me till you wake me from this bad dream (Yo, uh-huh)

I'm goin' down (Yo), down, down, down (Uh-huh)

And I just can't believe my first love won't be around, and I'm like

The silence between us used to be comfortable. Now it feels like quicksand.

She laughs at something her phone. Someone else’s text, and I flinch.

I’m in pieces. And she sees it.

“Chris…” she says softly, like she already knows what I’m going to say.

“I need you to tell me if there’s still something here,” I interrupt.

She blinks, lips parted. “Why?”

“Because I’m drowning in this,” I say. “And you’re just…watching.”

Her fingers twitch like she wants to reach for me. She doesn’t.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispers.

“You didn’t even try not to.”

I leave before she can say more. And in the car, parked outside her house, I let the tears fall.

She was my first love.

And I can’t believe she might be my first heartbreak, too.

Flashbacks

When I was thirteen, I had my first love

There was nobody that compared to my baby, and nobody came between us nor could ever come above

She had me goin' crazy, oh, I was starstruck

She woke me up daily, don't need no Starbucks (Woo)

I was thirteen. She moved into the house across the street with a backpack twice her size and eyes like trouble.

She beat me at Mario Kart the first time we hung out and called me a sore loser.

I told her I wasn’t. (I was.)

We spent summers on bikes, winters building snow forts, and every day in between talking about nothing and everything. I was in love with her before I even knew what that meant.

She was the reason I stopped setting alarms. Because she always knocked on my window before school.

I used to write her name on my sneakers in Sharpie. She pretended not to notice.

But once, she drew a little heart on my wrist and said, “Don’t wash it off.”

I didn’t. Not for three days.

She made my heart pound, and skip a beat when I see her in the street and

At school on the playground, but I really wanna see her on the weekend

She knows she got me dazing 'cause she was so amazing

And now my heart is breakin', but I just keep on sayin'

Freshman year, she cut her hair and suddenly everyone noticed her.

I hated it. Not because she wasn’t beautiful before. Because now I had to compete with half the school just to make her laugh.

But she always came back to me.

Even when people flirted. Even when she could’ve left me behind.

“Don’t look so jealous,” she’d say, nudging me with her knee. “You’re my favorite.”

I’d pretend it was a joke. But I replayed those words a hundred times that night.

She made my heart race just by walking into a room. My hands would go clammy. Voice would catch.

But I never said it. Never told her I loved her.

Because I thought we had time.

Baby, baby, baby, oh

Like baby, baby, baby, no

Like baby, baby, baby, oh

I thought you'd always be mine, mine

I see her again today.

Weeks since we talked. Since the fight. Since I let myself admit that maybe we weren’t meant to be.

She walks toward me at the park, slow, uncertain. Same old hoodie. Same old soft eyes.

“Hey,” she says. “Missed you.”

“Did you?” I ask, because I can’t pretend anymore.

She nods. Steps closer. Reaches for my hand. But this time, it’s not teasing. It’s real.

“I didn’t know how to love you right,” she says. “But I want to try.”

I look at her. Really look at her.

And all the versions of us. Kids, teens, almost-lovers. Fold into this one moment.

“I’m still your favorite?” I ask.

She grins. “Always.”

And maybe, just maybe, she’s still mine.

꧁𝐈𝐦𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤꧂

Yeah, lilac short skirt

The one that fits me like skin

Did your research

You knew the price goin' in

The hem of your lilac skirt grazes mid-thigh, hugging your curves like a memory you never meant to keep. You wore it for a reason.

Not for the crowd at the bar. Not for your friends waiting inside. For him.

Matt’s eyes find you the second you cross the threshold. It’s like gravity betrays him.

You pretend not to notice. Instead, you glide past him, shoulder squared, chin high. The floor vibrates under your heels like a heartbeat. His heartbeat. You don’t have to look back to know he’s watching. You can feel it, like a heat just behind your spine.

He once told you that skirt made him forget what he was saying. That it wasn’t fair. That it looked like you were poured into it.

You remember. He does too. That’s the point.

He knew what you were made of when he let you in. Storm, silk, and consequences. And now he has to pay.

And I'll tell you one thing, honey

I can tell when somebody still wants me, come clean

Standing at the bar like something's funny, bubbly

Once you fix your face, I'm goin' in

He leans against the bar, jaw clenched in that way it gets when he’s trying too hard to seem fine. He lifts his cup, barely sips, and sets it down with too much focus, like it might break if he doesn’t. His laugh comes late to jokes, like he has to remember he’s supposed to be laughing.

You see the telltale signs. He’s unraveling in slow motion.

When he glances your way again, you smile, but it’s just lips. No teeth. No warmth. A calculated flicker. His brows twitch. He turns away too fast, like your eyes burn.

You order champagne. On purpose. Not your usual, but bubbly fits the night.

Let him think you’re floating. Untouchable. Sparkling.

Once he stops pretending you’re not here, you’ll make your move.

Whether I'm gonna be your wife or

Gonna smash up your bike, I

Haven't decided yet

But I'm gonna get you back

Your fingers trail along the edge of the bar as you approach. Each step is measured, silent thunder. He stiffens when he notices, jaw flexing like he’s biting words back.

“You forgot how to say hi?” you murmur, voice casual, layered in venom and velvet.

He meets your eyes. Blue, guilty, hungry.

“I didn’t know if I had the right.”

You tilt your head. “Did you ever?”

A beat. He looks down. You hate how your chest still aches at the sight of his hands. They’re the same ones that held your waist like you were fragile, the same ones that disappeared without explanation.

You consider breaking his bike. Or marrying him just to keep him under your thumb. Options, options.

But tonight isn’t about choosing. It’s about control.

Whether I'm gonna curse you out or

Take you back to my house, I

Haven't decided yet

But I'm gonna get you back

He follows you to the quieter side of the bar, like a moth trailing smoke.

“I deserve it,” he says, voice hoarse.

You sip your drink. “Which part?”

“All of it.”

Your stare is unflinching. “Good.”

You could scream at him right now. Pull the pain out like a thread and wind it around his neck. Or you could drag him into your backseat and remind him what he lost. What he broke. What he still wants more than breathing.

The air is thick with indecision. You feel him watching your mouth like he used to watch you dance in the kitchen at 1AM.

“I haven’t decided what to do with you yet,” you whisper.

“I’ll take whatever you give.”

You believe him. And that’s dangerous.

I, I hear the whispers in your eyes

I'll make you wanna think twice

You'll find that you were never not mine

You're mine

His gaze keeps flicking down to your hands, your collarbone, the place your pulse jumps at your neck. He doesn’t mean to. It’s not conscious. It’s instinct.

“I never moved on,” he finally says.

You arch an eyebrow. “Didn’t stop you from trying.”

He doesn’t answer. Just looks at you like he wants to rewind every choice.

“I see you,” you say softly. “Still mine, even when you lied.”

He swallows hard. His fingers twitch against his jeans like they’re reaching for you and trying not to.

You step closer, close enough to see your reflection in his eyes.

“Admit it,” you murmur.

“I never stopped being yours.”

You smile. Small. Dangerous.

“I know.”

Small talk, big love

Act like I don't care what you did

I'm an Aston Martin

That you steered straight into the ditch

Then ran and hid

You walk outside with him when the bar gets too loud. Summer air wraps around your shoulders, sticky and soft. Your footsteps echo on the pavement like punctuation.

“So… how’s your friends?” he asks.

You laugh. “Really? You wanna do small talk?”

“I don’t know what else I’m allowed to ask.”

You stop walking. He does too.

“You had all of me. And then you crashed it,” you say. “No seatbelt. No warning. You walked away like I wasn’t bleeding.”

Matt’s jaw locks. “I didn’t know how to fix it.”

“You didn’t even try.”

The silence stretches between you. He steps closer but doesn’t touch.

“I wanted to. I was scared you’d never look at me again.”

You let the pause hang. Then

“I’m still looking, Matt. But don’t confuse that for forgiveness.”

And I'll tell you one thing, honey

I can take the upper hand and touch your body

Flip the script and leave you like a dumb house party

Or I might just love you 'til the end

You turn to him suddenly, grabbing the front of his hoodie and pulling him into you. Your lips graze his cheek. Not a kiss, but a test.

He shudders.

You pull back. “Still flammable, I see.”

He breathes like he’s forgotten how.

“I could leave you again,” you whisper. “This time, after you remember what I feel like.”

“Do it,” he says. “I’d still want the memory.”

That honesty cracks something in you.

You think of all the nights you ached for him. All the mornings you convinced yourself to forget.

Now he’s standing here, open and flawed.

Maybe you love him still. Maybe you’ll ruin him.

Maybe both.

Whether I'm gonna be your wife or

Gonna smash up your bike, I

Haven't decided yet

But I'm gonna get you back

He drives you home without asking. The silence in the car is soft, thick with unspoken things.

You reach over and turn the volume up, then immediately turn it back down.

“Still impulsive,” he mutters.

You glance at him. “Still yours.”

His hands grip the steering wheel tighter.

You wonder what it would feel like to stand in front of a chapel with him. Or to watch his face when he realizes you let the air out of his tires.

“Thinking,” you say aloud.

“Dangerous,” he replies.

You grin.

You don’t know what the ending looks like. But you know he won’t get away again.

Whether I'm gonna flip you off or

Pull you into the closet

I haven't decided yet

But I'm gonna get you back

Inside your apartment, the hallway feels too narrow. You stop just past the door, turning to face him.

His eyes sweep the space, then land back on you. “Still smells like vanilla.”

“You always liked that.”

He nods. Silence.

Then your hand finds his shirt. You shove him lightly. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to remind him of what he did.

He looks stunned, then relieved.

“I deserved that.”

“I’m not done.”

Before he can speak, you tug him toward the hallway closet. You’re laughing. He’s breathless.

You pull him in by the collar. Your mouths crash.

It’s wild and messy and so full of history it might break you.

You haven’t decided if it will.

I can feel it comin', hummin' in the way you move

Push the reset button, we're becoming something new

Say you got somebody, I'll say, "I got someone too"

Even if it's handcuffed, I'm leaving here with you

The next morning, light spills through your blinds like it has something to say.

Matt lies beside you, one arm over his eyes, the other stretched toward your side of the bed. Your hair is tangled, your lips swollen, your heart too loud.

You trace invisible shapes on his stomach. He shifts.

“Last night was…”

“A lot,” you finish for him.

He nods.

“Do you have someone?” you ask.

“No,” he says. “Just ghosts.”

You nod. “Me too.”

“But I’m done haunting people,” he adds. “I only want this.”

He turns his head. “You?”

You smirk. “Even if I hate you, I’m leaving here with you.”

Bygones will be bygone, eras fadin' into gray (fadin' into gray)

We broke all the pieces but still want to play the game (oh)

Told my friends, "I hate you but I love you just the same"

Pick your poison, babe

I'm poison either way

Later, he’s sitting on your floor, fiddling with the loose string on your rug.

“I kept your hoodie,” you admit. “The one you thought I lost.”

His head snaps up.

“Used to smell like you,” you say. “I almost threw it out. I didn’t.”

He smiles. Soft, broken.

“I told Nick and Chris I was over you,” he mutters. “They didn’t believe me.”

“I told my friends I hated you,” you reply.

“But you don’t?”

You stare at him.

“I do. And I don’t. You ruined me. But you were also the only place that ever felt like home.”

He stands and walks toward you slowly.

“Then let’s be poison together.”

I, I hear the whispers in your eyes

I'll make you wanna think twice

You'll find that you were never not mine

I'm gonna get you back

The day ends with you curled on the couch, his fingers tangled with yours, breaths syncing.

He watches you like you’re a song he forgot the lyrics to, but never the melody.

You lean in, brushing your lips against his ear.

“Did you think you could stop being mine?”

He exhales shakily. “I hoped not.”

Your smile returns. Not cruel this time. Just… true.

“You were always mine, Matt. Even when you forgot it.”

And now? Now you’re here to remind him, again and again, in every touch and word and silence.

Because you never stopped loving him.

And you’re gonna get him back.

꧁𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐰?꧂

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: After months of distance, you and Matt reunite for a bittersweet day filled with tension and unresolved love. As you drive home, the question still hangs between you. Where do we go now?

24th Street

Where you held me, grabbed my arm

What a mental fire alarm

'Cause a lot of that felt wrong

Like I miss you

But when I kissed you back, I lied

You don't know how hard I tried

Had to fake the longest time

It starts on 24th Street.

You shouldn’t have come. That’s what your gut tells you as your boots scuff against the cracked sidewalk, city sounds muffled by the weight in your chest. But the text had been simple.

“Meet me where we used to get bagels?”

And your feet had moved before your mind caught up.

Matt’s already there, leaning against the brick wall like time never passed. Hands buried in his hoodie pocket, head tilted down like he’s fighting something he won’t say out loud. You stop a few feet away. Close enough to feel him but too far to fall again.

He looks up. You see it in his eyes. The mix of nostalgia and something darker. His hand reaches out, fingers wrapping around your arm just above your wrist. It’s gentle, but your muscles tense anyway.

“You remember this place?” he asks, voice quieter than it used to be.

You nod, eyes not meeting his. “Yeah.”

The air feels tight. When he leans in, your lips meet his for a split second. A second too long. And you hate yourself because it feels like a lie, like you’re watching someone else’s mouth respond. You used to mean it. Every kiss, but this one tastes like memory, like ash.

You pull back. He doesn’t chase. Good. Because if he did, you might’ve broken all over again.

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

You both walk in silence. No bagels this time. Just the stretch of sidewalk and a question hanging between you like smoke.

Where do we go now?

You almost ask him if he still calls his mom every Thursday, if he still sleeps with his socks on when he’s upset. But that would feel like pretending nothing broke.

Matt kicks at a pebble. “Do you ever think about us?”

You don’t answer. Not because you don’t, but because when you do, it’s always during the quiet parts of the night when your chest tightens and your hand reaches for a phone you don’t have the courage to use.

The silence makes it worse. The weight of “what now?” is heavier than the past. You catch his reflection in a store window. He looks older, tired. So do you.

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

It loops in your mind like a broken chorus. Neither of you has the melody anymore.

You look hopeful

Like we're supposed to work somehow

Can't you tell our light burned out?

Got a lot to cry about

There's nothin' left here

All our best years are behind

What a brutal way to die

But you choose it every time

Matt’s house is still filled with sunlight at five in the afternoon. You sit at opposite ends of the couch, like strangers stuck in a waiting room.

He watches you like he’s looking for something. Like he expects a version of you he used to know to show up at any moment. You can’t give him that.

“You look at me like we’re still… salvageable,” you whisper.

Matt’s brows knit together. “Aren’t we?”

Your laugh is dry. “We had a spark. We also had shouting matches at 2 a.m., doors slammed, nights apart when we were supposed to be together.”

He flinches like you slapped him.

You stare at the old photos still framed on the shelf. One of you in matching hoodies, blurry and warm. Another on the beach, eyes shut, sunburned, smiling. Your throat tightens.

“I cried more with you than I ever did alone,” you say.

“I know,” he replies. “But I also made you laugh more than anyone else.”

“That’s the part that hurts.”

Matt looks down. His hands curl into fists on his lap. “I chose us every time, Y/N.”

“And every time, it ended the same.”

We could meet down the line

After all of the time

And give an actual try

I can't promise you'll like it

I know I changed overnight

So I can't blame you for fightin'

And I'd be losin' my mind

If you lived in your writin'

You sip the cold tea he offered when you walked in. It’s bitter, but you drink it anyway.

“I used to think a lot about you,” he admits. “Still do.”

Your heart skips.

“I know.” You look out the window, watching a couple argue across the street. “You thought about me like I was some savior.”

“You were,” he says quickly.

You shake your head. “You fell in love with an idea.”

He doesn’t argue. He just breathes slowly, like he’s trying not to cry.

“Maybe in a few years,” you say, “we could try again. If we’ve grown. If it doesn’t hurt to see each other anymore.”

He nods. “And maybe I won’t have you in my thoughts all the time”

You smile. Not the kind that fixes anything. Just the kind that knows it’s too late to undo what’s already done.

“I changed,” you say.

“I know,” he answers. “So did I.”

And for a moment, it feels like you’re talking to someone new. Not the boy who loved too loudly and your not the girl who ran. Just two people trying to make sense of the after.

'Cause now I'm half of myself here without you

You're the best in my life and I lost you

And we had no control when it fell through

It was one-sided, hate how I hurt you

If I could, I'd have changed every feelin'

Reservations were up to the ceilin'

Guess the space was the thing that I needed

But I miss you

Matt offers to drive you home, and you walk together to his car.

The sun is lower now, painting the sidewalks in orange and gold. Your shoulder brushes his and neither of you move away.

“I didn’t know how to need you without depending on you,” Matt says.

You nod. “And I didn’t know how to stay when I felt unseen.”

There’s a pause.

“I miss you,” he adds, like a confession.

Your breath catches. “I miss you too.”

Matt stops walking. You turn to face him. There’s something honest in his expression. No walls, no defenses.

“If we could go back,” he begins, “I’d choose you differently. Softer. Smarter.”

You smile, eyes wet. “If we could go back, I’d let you love me. Fully. Not just the parts I liked.”

And for a second, just one, it feels like maybe the pain was worth the knowing.

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

Where do we go now?

You both sit in his car. The same car that used to hold late-night laughter and fast-food wrappers, now too quiet. The engine hums, but neither of you speaks.

Matt’s fingers rest on the steering wheel like always, except he hasn’t turned out of the parking lot yet.

“You want music?” he asks.

You shake your head. The silence feels truer.

The drive starts slow. City lights blur past, familiar roads stretching into something that feels like an ending and a beginning all at once. He doesn’t ask for directions. He still remembers how to get to your house without GPS.

Your hands are in your lap, fingers twisted together. You feel his glance every so often, but he never says what’s sitting on the tip of his tongue.

He pulls up outside your house, the porch light casting soft shadows across the dashboard. You both stay there for a moment, suspended in the in-between.

“I used to love dropping you off,” Matt says, voice low. “Not because it meant goodbye, but because you’d always turn back at the door and smile like you wanted one more minute.”

You don’t say anything. You just look at him. Eyes tired, but soft. Present.

“I still want one more minute,” he admits.

Your throat tightens. “So do I.”

But you reach for the door anyway. Hand on the handle, not moving.

“Matt?”

He turns toward you, like he’s bracing.

You don’t kiss him. You just rest your forehead against his for a breath or two, eyes closed, fingers barely brushing his jaw.

“Maybe someday,” you whisper.

He nods, and the smallest exhale escapes his lips. Like he knows better than to make promises now.

You step out. The car stays parked as you walk up the front steps. This time, you don’t turn around at the door.

But he’s still watching when you go inside.

And in that pause between leaving and letting go, the question lingers again, softer now, like a thread between two hearts still figuring it out.

Where do we go now?

You don’t know.

But maybe, not yet, isn’t the same as never.

꧁𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭꧂

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You return to Matt’s house, where unresolved feelings surface as you confront the truth about your broken relationship. Through quiet tension and flashbacks, you both realize that love isn’t enough to fix what’s already gone. Despite still caring, you walks away. Knowing it just won’t work.

I left you here

Heard you keep the extra closet empty

In case this year

I come back and stay throughout my twenties

What if I won't?

How am I supposed to put that gently?

And down the road

You will love me until you resent me

Mm, mm, mm

You don’t knock. You still have the key. Matt never asked for it back.

The front door sighs open and closes behind you, the silence thick like dust in the air. The house is mostly the same, the faint citrus-and-vinyl scent, the old record player in the corner, his favorite sneakers kicked lazily by the couch. But the closet. Your old closet, gapes open like a mouth.

Empty. Still.

Your fingers hover near the wooden frame. You could ask him why. But you already know. You used to joke about coming back, maybe after college, maybe when you “figured it all out.” You said you’d stay through your twenties, just like that, lighthearted, with your head on his chest. He took you seriously. Maybe too seriously.

He walks out from the kitchen. Still barefoot. Still in that gray hoodie with the fraying cuff you always used to tug at. When he sees you, his mouth parts slightly, but he doesn’t speak.

Your eyes flick to the closet, then back to him.

“What if I don’t come back?” you say.

He blinks. His arms cross, slow and guarded. “Is that a question or an answer?”

You shrug. “Both.”

And in the quiet, you see it. He wants to believe that someday you’ll return. But that belief is a weight. One day, it’ll break his spine. You can already see the fracture lines in his posture.

“I’d love you down the road,” he says. “Even if I’d hate you for leaving.”

The words should sting. But they don’t surprise you.

I've had the thought

Tried to work it out through anxious pacing

What if I'm not

Worth the time and breath I know you're saving?

But it's a lot

All the shine of half a decade fading

The whole facade

Seemed to fall apart, it's complicated

Mm, mm, hmm-mm

You remember that night you found him pacing.

It was three weeks before the end. He was backlit by the city lights, jaw tight, hands stuffed into his hair like he could pull the thoughts out one by one. You had asked him what was wrong, and he said nothing. You’d known better.

“I just…” he started, but couldn’t finish.

“What if I’m not worth it?” you had blurted. “What if this whole thing… what if it fades and we’re just holding on to something that isn’t even real anymore?”

He had looked at you then, eyes wide, betrayed.

And still, he didn’t answer.

Now, back at the house, you catch his hand tracing that same nervous path across his scalp. A gesture from the past echoing in the present.

Half a decade. That’s how long it’s been, give or take. And the shine of it. Every movie date, every late-night 7-Eleven run, every “I love you” whispered into the folds of his hoodie is dim now. Not gone. But dulled.

He walks toward the couch and sits, not inviting you, not pushing you away. His voice, when he speaks, is raw.

“I didn’t think we were fake,” he says.

You sit, finally. “We weren’t. But that doesn’t mean we’re still… it.”

The clock ticks louder than it should.

And part of me wants to walk away 'til you really listen

I hate to look at your face and know that we're feeling different

'Cause part of me wants you back, but

I know it won't work like that, huh?

Your foot taps restlessly on the hardwood floor. Matt’s staring at his palms now, as if the answers are carved there.

You speak first. “Do you ever wonder if you only hear what you want to?”

His brow furrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” you say slowly, “you’re still waiting for me to change my mind.”

He lifts his eyes to yours. Blue, glassy, worn. The kind of stare that makes you want to say something you’ll regret. Because even now, even after all the unraveling, there’s still a piece of you that wants to reach across the space and hold him again.

“I don’t know what to do,” he admits. “You’re here, and it feels like… like I could fix it.”

“And part of me wants that too,” you say, voice cracking. “But it won’t work like that.”

You both sit in the silence of half-spoken desires, too aware that this kind of love isn’t enough anymore.

Why won't you try moving on for once? That might make it easy

I know we cut all the ties but you're never really leaving

And part of me wants you back, but

I know it won't work like that, huh?

He looks at you like you’re asking him to forget how to breathe.

“You say that like it’s simple,” he whispers. “Like I didn’t try.”

“But you didn’t,” you say, not cruel, just tired. “You kept my pictures up. You kept my name in your phone like nothing changed.”

“I couldn’t…” he starts.

“You didn’t want to,” you correct.

The truth sinks in like cold water. He’s clung to the idea of you so tightly, there’s no room for anything else in his life. Not healing. Not someone new. Not even himself.

You want to scream. You want to shake him by the shoulders until he understands that love shouldn’t look like limbo.

“Cutting ties means more than deleting messages, Matt. It means letting go.”

He stares at you like you’re walking out all over again. Maybe you are.

And still, still there’s that part of you. That foolish, nostalgic part that wants to rewind. But you crush it.

Because you know.

It won’t work like that.

I'll open up

I'm thinking everything you wish I wasn't

The call was tough

But you're better off, I'm being honest

So won't you stop

Holding out for me when I don't want it?

Just brush me off

'Cause I'm your ghost right now, your house is haunted

You lean forward, elbows on knees, and say the thing you’ve been avoiding.

“I’m not the version of me you fell for anymore.”

Matt doesn’t speak. You press on, braver now.

“I’ve changed. I want different things. I don’t fit into this anymore. This life, this future you’ve frozen around us.”

His breath hitches, but he stays still.

“And I think… you’re better off without someone who can’t give you what you want.”

Your words hang between you, brittle and sharp.

“You were everything,” he murmurs. “But I don’t know how to forget you.”

You close your eyes. “Then stop holding out for me. Please.”

He looks at you like you’ve died. Maybe part of you has.

Outside, a car door slams, and for a moment the noise feels too loud, too real. You’re both ghosts of what you used to be.

This place is haunted.

And part of me wants to walk away 'til you really listen

I hate to look at your face and know that we're feeling different

'Cause part of me wants you back, but

I know it won't work like that, huh?

You stand.

Matt’s eyes follow you like he’s memorizing your shape, afraid you’ll vanish entirely this time.

“I can’t keep doing this,” you say. “Showing up, pretending maybe we’ll find the magic again.”

He nods. Just once. Slow.

You move toward the door. Your steps feel like betrayal. His silence feels like acceptance. Maybe it is. Maybe that’s progress.

But as your fingers close around the doorknob, your heart jerks.

“Part of me still loves you,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “But love isn’t always enough.”

You look back once. Just once.

He’s still sitting on the couch, shoulders hunched, hands limp in his lap. He doesn’t call out. Doesn’t beg.

That silence hurts more than any goodbye.

Why won't you try moving on for once? That might make it easy

I know we cut all the ties but you're never really leaving

And part of me wants you back, but

I know it won't work like that, huh?

Weeks later, Nick mentions that Matt finally deleted your photos from Instagram.

You pretend it doesn’t twist something inside you.

It’s raining when you pass the corner where you had your first kiss. Awkward, perfect, seventeen. And it hits you. He’s trying. Finally. And so are you.

You still feel him, sometimes. When you put on that hoodie you forgot he left behind. When your phone autocorrects “maybe” to “Matt” because it used to do that every time.

But you don’t go back. Neither does he.

There’s no grand closure. No cinematic montage.

Just two people, learning to let go of something beautiful because it wasn’t right anymore.

And part of you still wants him back.

But you know…

It won’t work like that.

꧁𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮꧂

Look away

I try to bite my tongue

I think you might be giving me the feeling I've been running from

A mistake

I know how this one ends

'Cause once you say it there's no going back to being friends

The room hums with the low beat of a song neither of you are really listening to. Your eyes are fixed on the screen of your phone, pretending to be engrossed in some pointless scrolling, but your mind is hyper-aware of the boy lounging on the other side of the couch. Matt is leaning back, arm draped across the top of the cushions, eyes flickering between his phone and you.

You catch him looking, and your heart trips over itself. You force yourself to look away, biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something stupid, something irrevocable. Your fingers drum nervously against your thigh, and Matt, in his usual oblivious fashion, just grins. That easy, crooked smile, like he doesn’t know he’s wrecking your life.

The air between you vibrates with unspoken tension, and you swallow down the words you know you can’t take back if you say them out loud. Your heart begs for you to be reckless, but your brain screams that you know how this story goes, how it ends. Friends don’t look at each other like this.

When you caress my face and kiss my waist

It's so underrated

Pins and needles in my arms 'til you touch me

Now I can feel again

It’s late when you finally decide to leave, the night air cool against your skin as you step out onto the porch. You shiver, rubbing your arms. Matt follows behind, hands shoved into his pockets, and for a moment, the silence feels softer than usual.

You’re mid-sentence when his hand reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face. You freeze, pulse loud in your ears. His fingers linger against your cheek, thumb tracing a path to your jawline, and you swear your whole body jolts awake at the contact.

His touch is cautious, but when his hand finds your waist and pulls you just a little closer, it’s like coming alive again. You don’t know whether to lean in or run, but the way his eyes search yours, like he’s waiting for permission, makes your chest ache.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Matt’s fingers trace small circles into your side, and your heart thunders, daring you to close the distance.

What's the matter with you? You're such a gentleman

I told you I don't have the time to fall in love again

What's the matter with you? Why'd you take my hand?

I love the way you came around and ruined all my plans

You can’t sleep that night, replaying every second of Matt’s hand on your waist, his eyes on you like you were something precious. He’s infuriating, really. Always holding doors open, insisting on walking you home, giving you that little half-smile that makes your insides twist. You swore to yourself that you didn’t have time to fall in love, not again.

The next morning, Matt texts you, his message simple and warm.

Did you get home okay?

You stare at the screen, groaning softly. What’s the matter with him, being so…nice? You can’t afford to get attached, not when you’ve just started piecing yourself back together.

But when he shows up later, hands shoved in his pockets, grinning as if just seeing you makes his day better, your resolve cracks. He doesn’t even ask permission, just reaches out and takes your hand, fingers lacing through yours as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. You want to be mad, but all you feel is warmth spreading through your chest.

Go away

You can read my thoughts

I can see it in your eyes in the driveway when you drop me off

Matt pulls up in front of your house, the engine cutting off, and neither of you moves. The porch light flickers, but you make no effort to unbuckle your seatbelt.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low, and you nod too quickly. You know he sees through you, he always does. The way his eyes linger, soft and steady, makes your stomach flip.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you lie, chewing the inside of your cheek.

He tilts his head, studying you. “You sure?”

The way he says it makes your heart ache. You know you should just get out, let him go before you do something you’ll regret, but you can’t. You hate how he sees right through you, how he doesn’t push but still waits for you to say something real. You take a breath, forcing a smile that feels too tight, and whisper a goodbye.

When you caress my face and grab my waist

It's so complicated

When we saw the shooting star and you kissed me

We weren't being friends

You’re lying on the hood of Matt’s car, stars stretched out overhead. You’re talking about nothing and everything, movies you love, dreams you’ve never shared. A shooting star streaks across the sky, and you both go quiet.

“Make a wish,” Matt murmurs.

You close your eyes, trying to wish away the feeling gnawing at your heart, but it doesn’t work. When you open them again, Matt is staring at you, his expression raw and unguarded.

His hand finds your cheek again, fingers grazing your jaw, and this time, you don’t pull away. You don’t even breathe. When he leans in, lips brushing yours, it’s cautious and warm, and you melt into it before you can think. Your hands slide to his waist, gripping his shirt to keep steady. The kiss deepens, and when you pull back, his forehead rests against yours, both of you breathing unevenly.

Friends don’t kiss like that. You both know it.

What's the matter with you? You're such a gentleman

I told you I don't have the time to fall in love again

What's the matter with you? Why'd you take my hand?

I love the way you came around and ruined all my plans

The next morning, you’re a mess of nerves. You promised yourself you wouldn’t fall for him, that you didn’t have time to get your heart broken again. Yet, here you are, lying on your bed, Matt’s smile looping through your thoughts.

Your phone buzzes, a text from Matt.

Can I see you later?

You groan into your pillow, torn between running and staying. You’ve spent so long protecting yourself, keeping people at arm’s length, and now Matt’s gone and ruined it by being exactly what you never knew you needed.

You text back before you can overthink it

Yeah, see you later.

You know you’re in too deep, and maybe that’s okay. Matt’s not like the others. He’s patient, kind, and just the right kind of stubborn to break down your walls. You sigh, burying your face in your hands, a small smile breaking through despite yourself.

What’s the matter with him, anyway? Ruining your plans and making you feel like falling might be worth it after all.

꧁𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝꧂

Y/N pov

I'm a motherfuckin' train wreck

I don't wanna be too much

But I don't wanna miss your touch

And you don't seem to give a fuck

The music thumps against the walls, bodies swaying to the rhythm, but I can’t shake the feeling that Chris’s eyes have been on me since I walked in. I lean against the kitchen counter, nursing a half-empty red solo cup, feigning indifference.

I know I’m a mess. My mind is a blur of unsaid words and lingering touches, and being near him just amplifies the chaos. I hate that his presence sets me on fire, makes me feel too much. I hate even more that he doesn’t seem fazed, as if our moments don’t stick to him like they do to me.

He leans against the doorframe, laughing with his friends, but his eyes flicker to me every few seconds. I hate how he does that. How he makes me feel wanted without saying a word. I swallow the ache in my chest and avert my gaze, pretending that I’m unaffected.

I don't wanna keep you waiting

But I do just what I have to do

And I might not be the one for you

But you ain't about to have no boo

He pushes off the doorframe and walks towards me, his casual stride making my heart lurch. I straighten up, preparing myself for whatever bullshit he’s about to spew.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low, eyes scanning my face like he’s memorizing it.

I shrug, playing it cool. “Hey yourself.”

His fingers brush mine, just a whisper of touch, and I hate how it sends a shiver through me. I know I shouldn’t be doing this. Keeping him close without giving him anything real. It’s selfish. But I can’t help it.

“You’re playing hard to get tonight,” he murmurs, lips curving into that infuriating smirk.

I glare at him, but it’s half-hearted. “Maybe I just don’t want to play at all.”

His jaw tenses, just slightly, and for a second, I think he might just walk away. But then his hand wraps around my wrist, tugging me closer. “Yeah, right.”

'Cause I know we be so complicated

But we be so smitten, it's crazy

I can't have what I want, but neither can you

We slip into the hallway, away from the noise. The tension crackles between us, a familiar push and pull. He’s too close, and I’m not moving away. His hand lands on my waist, pulling me against him.

I look up at him, trying to hide the way my pulse races. “We can’t keep doing this.”

His fingers trace slow circles on my hip. “Then why does it feel so good?”

I scoff, rolling my eyes, but the softness in his gaze makes my stomach flip. “Because we’re both idiots,” I mutter.

His lips quirk up, and he leans down, pressing his forehead against mine. “I guess I like being an idiot with you.”

You ain't my boyfriend (boyfriend)

And I ain't your girlfriend (girlfriend)

But you don't want me to see nobody else

And I don't want you to see nobody

I pull back, crossing my arms over my chest. “So what’s the deal with you and that blonde from earlier?”

His brows furrow, eyes narrowing slightly. “What blonde?”

“Don’t play dumb, Chris. I saw her all over you.”

His lips press into a line, irritation flaring in his eyes. “She doesn’t mean anything. You know that.”

I hate that I care. I hate even more that I want to believe him. “I don’t want you with anyone else,” I whisper, my voice softer than I intended.

He cups my face, his thumb grazing my cheek. “Then don’t push me away.”

Chris pov

Even though you ain't mine, I promise the way we fight

Make me honestly feel like we just in love

'Cause baby, when push comes to shove

Damn baby, I'm a train wreck, too (too)

I lose my mind when it comes to you

I take time with the ones I choose

And I don't want to smile if it ain't from you, yeah

Her lips are a breath away from mine, and I’m trying to keep my head straight, but it’s impossible. Y/N is like a damn storm, pulling me in, drowning me, and I can’t help but dive deeper.

I hate that we fight. Hate that every time I look at her, I feel like I’m losing control. I’m not good at this feelings, commitment, whatever this is. But when she’s not around, it feels like something’s missing.

Her fingers tangle in my shirt, pulling me closer. “Why do you always have to be so confusing?” she mutters.

I kiss her before I can think better of it, tasting her frustration and desire. “Maybe ‘cause I’m just as fucked up as you,” I say against her lips.

I know we be so complicated

Lovin' you sometime drive me crazy

'Cause I can't have what I want and neither can you

Her hands slide up to my neck, nails scraping lightly, and I’m so damn tired of pretending this doesn’t matter. But I can’t say it out loud. If I do, it makes it real, and real means everything could fall apart.

“You drive me insane,” I admit, fully looking into her eyes. “But I can’t stay away.”

She laughs, a sad, soft sound. “Same.”

I wanna kiss you (yeah), don't wanna miss you (yeah)

But I can't be with you 'cause I got issues

Yeah, on the surface, seem like it's easy

Careful with words, but it's still hard to read me

We’re both leaning against the wall now, our breaths mingling, the world outside fading away. I want to kiss her again, want to pull her closer, but something in her eyes stops me.

“Why does it have to be so hard?” she whispers.

I don’t have an answer. I just know that I don’t want her to leave.

Stress high when the trust low (mmm)

Bad vibes, where'd the fun go? (Oh)

Try to open up and love more (love more)

Try to open up and love more

We stand there, neither of us moving, caught between wanting and fearing. I know I should let her in, should tell her how I really feel. But the words catch in my throat.

She sighs, pulling back just enough to look at me. “Maybe we just need to stop overthinking it.”

I nod, but the doubt lingers. Love’s supposed to be easy, right? Why does it feel like a minefield with her?

If you were my boyfriend

If you were my girlfriend

I probably wouldn't see nobody else

But I can't guarantee that by myself

Finally, I break the silence. “What if we tried?”

Her eyes search mine, hesitant but hopeful. “You mean…actually tried?”

I squeeze her hand, fighting the urge to pull her back into my arms. “Yeah. Maybe. Just…us. No one else.”

She smiles, small and unsure. “I’m scared.”

“Me too,” I admit. But maybe fear’s part of it. Maybe we’re supposed to be a little scared.

And maybe, just maybe, we’re worth the risk.

꧁𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤꧂

You got a lot to say for someone miles away

Another lonely afternoon in Chinatown

I put my makeup on just to take it off

Your favorite pastime is letting me down

My phone vibrates on the cluttered nightstand, screen flickering with Matt’s name. I press my lips together, debating whether to ignore it, but curiosity wins. His voice crackles through the speaker, casual, too casual. He’s rambling about his day in L.A., stories of late-night drives and conversations. I listen, silent, as he talks on and on, never asking about my day, never wondering how I’m doing here in Newbury Park.

The sunlight streams through the blinds, golden and warm, but my room feels colder somehow. I catch my reflection in the mirror, mascara slightly smudged from the night before. I fix it absentmindedly, dabbing at the dark streaks, wondering why I even bother. He never sees me like this. He never sees me at all.

I hear his laugh on the other end, carefree and reckless, and something in my chest tightens. I force a smile into my tone, just enough to keep him from noticing. When the call ends, I lean back against the wall, eyes tracing patterns in the ceiling. It’s always like this. Me listening, him talking, the space between us too wide to bridge.

Newbury Park's pretty far from L.A.

Traffic is bad but I came anyway

You'll never think that I'm good enough, so

Fuck you for wasting my love

Fuck you for wasting my love

Fuck you for wasting my love

The drive to L.A. is a nightmare. Cars snaking through the highway, brake lights blinking in unison. I rest my head against the steering wheel at a red light, fingers tapping against the leather. I shouldn’t be doing this. I should’ve stayed home. But Matt called earlier, something in his voice pulling at the pieces of me that still believe he might change.

By the time I reach his place, dusk has settled in, the city humming with restless energy. I spot him leaning against his car, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, that familiar crooked smile on his face. For a second, I almost forget why I’m angry.

But when he looks at me, his eyes barely light up. I take a breath, the ache in my chest sharper than I remember. He makes a joke, some throwaway comment about how I always look a little lost in L.A., and I laugh, but it’s forced, brittle around the edges.

I stare at him, wondering if he even knows how much it takes for me to be here, how much I’ve given just to be in his orbit. He’s oblivious, as always, too wrapped up in his own world to notice how mine revolves around him.

I wanna burn my bed

You ruined Radiohead

Oh, what's that song called?

You know the one we fell in love to

I slam my door to your car

Every time you break my heart

This should be easy, but loving you is so damn

We end up at his favorite spot by the pier, where the waves crash against the rocks, and the air tastes like salt and regret. He turns on the radio, some old song filtering through the speakers. I know it instantly, Creep by Radiohead. I used to love this song. Now, it just makes my stomach twist.

Matt sings along, off-key and loud, not noticing how quiet I’ve gone. I chew on the inside of my cheek, memories flooding back, late nights on my bed, his head resting on my shoulder, both of us humming the lyrics, his hand warm on mine.

I can’t take it. I reach out and turn the volume down, my voice breaking when I tell him it’s not fun anymore. He looks at me, confused, like he doesn’t understand why something’s wrong. That’s the problem, he never understands.

I push open the car door and slam it behind me, my feet pounding against the pavement. He calls after me, but I keep walking, hands shaking, anger bubbling to the surface. It should be easy, this love. It should feel good. But it never does.

Newbury Park's pretty far from L.A.

Traffic is bad but I came anyway

You'll never think that I'm good enough, so

Fuck you for wasting my love

Fuck you for wasting my love

Wasting my love

I’m halfway to the bus stop when he catches up, grabbing my arm. His touch is gentle, almost hesitant. I wrench free, spinning around to face him. The words spill out before I can stop them.

“Do you even know how hard it is to keep showing up? To drive hours just to see you when you never do the same? I feel like I’m constantly chasing you, and you just, stand there, waiting for me to come to you.”

His eyes widen, hands dropping to his sides. He tries to speak, but I cut him off, shaking my head. “You’ll never think I’m enough. I get it now. I’m tired, Matt. I’m tired of you wasting my love.”

His face falls, and for once, he looks like he’s actually listening. But I don’t wait for him to speak. I turn and walk away, shoulders hunched against the cold wind, heart heavier than it’s ever been.

Sorry's just a word unless you mean it

Go on wasting my love

Sorry's just a word unless you feel it

Go on wasting my love

When I get home, the sky is dark, stars barely visible through the smog. I sit on my bed, phone buzzing again, Matt’s name lighting up the screen. I hesitate before picking it up, his voice on the other end softer, almost careful.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and I close my eyes, pressing my lips together to keep from crying.

“Sorry doesn’t mean anything if you keep doing it, Matt. You say it every time, but nothing ever changes. I can’t keep waiting for you to figure it out.”

Silence stretches between us, thick and suffocating. I hear him exhale shakily, like he’s finally processing the gravity of what I said. Part of me wants to take it back, to apologize for being harsh, but the other part, the one that’s tired of loving him alone keeps me silent.

“I’ll try,” he finally says, voice barely above a whisper. But I’ve heard that too. I hang up, dropping the phone onto the bed, staring at the ceiling as tears spill over.

Sorry’s just a word. And I’m done wasting my love.

꧁𝐖𝐘𝐃 𝐧𝐨𝐰?꧂

I saw you in the back of my show last night

Standing underneath the exit sign

I know it wasn't really you though

'Cause you were always in the front row

The room buzzes with energy, the stage lights painting patterns across the crowd. My fingers wrap tightly around the microphone, and I take a deep breath before launching into the next verse. That’s when I see him.

Chris.

Standing underneath the exit sign, his silhouette sharp against the dim glow. For a heartbeat, my voice falters, barely noticeable to anyone else, but I feel it like a crack in my composure. My chest tightens. He’s not supposed to be here.

But when I blink again, the space is empty. My eyes dart around, trying to convince myself it’s him. I know it wasn’t really Chris, though. He was always in the front row, right in the thick of the crowd, lips moving along with every word I sang. He’d beam at me, that lazy, crooked smile, his hands tapping against his thigh, fully immersed.

My voice carries on, but my thoughts are tangled up in him. The lyrics, the melody they all feel like him tonight, lingering like a ghost. I push through the set, pretending it doesn’t hurt.

And I've been looking for love online

And maybe some of them are real good guys

They're never gonna be like you though

You set the bar above the moon so

After the show, I scroll through my phone, mindlessly checking notifications. Dating apps light up the screen, a stream of messages from guys I’ve matched with. I try. I really do. Some of them seem nice, even funny. They compliment my music, ask about my writing process.

But they’re not Chris. None of them are.

He’s the standard, unattainable, etched in my mind like a carved promise. A part of me wonders if I’m being unfair, holding everyone to that impossibly high mark he left behind. But how can I not? He was the one who stayed up till dawn talking about dreams and fears, the one who knew every version of me messy, raw, unguarded.

The guys online are good, kind even, but they don’t laugh like Chris. They don’t know how I need silence sometimes, how I can’t write when the world is too loud. I set the phone down, running my hands through my hair, talking to the universe, “Why can’t I just move on?”

I don't wanna be 20-something

And still in my head about

17 in my bedroom talking

You said that by now we'd

Paint the walls of our shared apartment

You're still everything I want and

I think we could work it out

So what are you doing now?

I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling, the same way I did when we were seventeen. Back then, we’d sprawl out on the floor, backs to the carpet, talking about what life would be like when we finally made it.

“By the time we’re twenty-something,” Chris would say, his fingers tracing patterns on my arm, “we’ll have our own place. Tiny, maybe, but ours. Paint the walls whatever color you want. Yellow, like sunshine.”

He grinned, eyes sparkling, and I’d laugh, nudging his side. “You hate yellow.”

“Not if it makes you happy.”

The memory hits hard, and I swallow the ache. I was so sure of us back then, our lives braided together like vines that couldn’t be unraveled. Now I’m twenty one, and it still hurts, like I’m frozen at seventeen, waiting for him to come back and remind me of who I was when I was with him.

Now that you finally got the job you like

I'm making money off the songs I write

I know you said that I could call you

I wonder if you wanna call too

I heard through mutual friends that Chris got the job he always wanted. Making YouTube videos with his brothers, I didn’t catch the details, too busy pretending it didn’t sting. I guess it’s good, though. He deserves it.

Me? I’m making money from the songs I write now, playing to packed rooms, voices echoing back at me. It’s everything I thought I wanted.

Chris always told me to call if I needed anything. I wonder if he meant it, or if it was just one of those things you say when you don’t know how to let go. Sometimes, late at night, I scroll through our old messages, my thumb hovering over the call button, heart thudding. I never press it.

Now that the future doesn't feel so far

It doesn't seem as wrong to want what's ours

And after everything that's happened

I wanna put it in the past tense

It doesn’t feel impossible anymore. Us, I mean. I used to think too much had happened, too many words said or left unsaid. Now, with my life unfolding and his taking shape, it feels like maybe we could find our way back.

I want to bury the past, all the hurt and the long nights wondering why we broke in the first place. I want to see his face, hear him tell me that we could still paint those walls, that the future isn’t so far away anymore.

I write song lyrics down, like a spell: “I want to move on, but I don’t want to move on from him.”

Are you with somebody?

Should I even care?

Know you're not as happy

As when I was there

In your faded T-shirt

That I've kept this long

I still hear you laughing

When I put it on

I know

I still sleep in his faded T-shirt. The one that smells like old cologne and late nights spent chasing fireflies. Sometimes, when I put it on, I can almost hear his laugh soft, boyish, a little unsure.

I don’t know if he’s with someone new. Part of me is afraid to find out. I catch myself wondering if she knows his favorite movie, the one he watches when he’s sad. Does she get why he hates cucumbers but loves pickles? I shouldn’t care.

But I do.

The shirt is softer now, worn from too many washes, but I can’t bring myself to throw it out. It’s my last tangible piece of him. When I wear it, I remember how his arms felt around me, how he’d murmur stories in the dark.

My friends tell me I need to stop holding on. They don’t get it. He wasn’t just someone I loved. He was the boy who saw me, the real me, and still stuck around.

I don't wanna be 20-something

And still in my head about

17 in my bedroom talking

You said that by now we'd

Paint the walls of our shared apartment

You're still everything I want and

I think we could work it out

So what are you doing now?

I don’t want to spend the rest of my twenties wishing I could go back to being seventeen, where everything was simpler. I’m tired of reliving those nights in my head, where we’d plan our life together, our shared apartment with mismatched furniture and sunlight streaming in through sheer curtains.

He’s still everything I want. That hasn’t changed. I think about reaching out, about telling him I’m still here, still hoping. But fear creeps in, what if he’s moved on? What if I’m stuck in this cycle of longing while he’s painting his own walls with someone else?

I take a deep breath, my thumb hovering over his name on my phone. I could do it, just call and see where he’s at.

The screen flickers, and before I can change my mind, I press the call button.

It rings. Once. Twice.

My heart pounds louder than ever, and just as I’m about to hang up, his voice comes through, groggy and familiar.

“Hey,” he breathes.

I hesitate, fingers trembling. “Hey. It’s me.”

There’s a pause, long enough for doubt to creep in. But then, he says my name, soft and unsure.

“Y/N. What’s up?”

And suddenly, I’m seventeen again, in that tiny bedroom, painting our future with words.

“I was just wondering… what are you doing now?”

꧁𝐋𝐢𝐞꧂

The hardest pill to swallow

Is knowing that tomorrow you're not mine, mine, mine

If I don't get to have you

Thank God our matching tattoos last for life, life, life

Matt’s fingers fumble with his keys, the metal clinking against the wooden table. His jaw clenches, and I catch the slight tremble in his hands. I’m sitting on the other side of the room, legs pulled to my chest, chin resting on my knees. My heart feels heavy, sinking deeper with each second that passes without words.

A glint of ink catches the corner of my eye, the small matching tattoos on our wrists. A year ago, we had been so sure of forever. I trace mine absentmindedly, remembering how his thumb had brushed against my skin after the needle lifted, his lips pressing softly to the inked heart.

Matt doesn’t look at me. His shoulders are rigid, tension vibrating off him like static. I can almost hear his thoughts, looping like a broken record.

I can’t stay.

The hardest part isn’t that he’s leaving. It’s that tomorrow he won’t be mine. Tomorrow someone else might trace his inked skin, memorize his laugh, fall in love with his awkward jokes.

Oh, I know I can't help if you meet someone else

If you meet someone else

Matt finally speaks, voice low and raw. “I didn’t plan for this to happen.”

I want to scream, to make him take it back, but all I do is nod, eyes fixed on his worn shoes. He shifts uncomfortably, guilt pooling in his blue eyes. He’s never been good at hurting people.

Matt swallows hard. “I never wanted to hurt you, Y/N.”

I force a bitter smile. “But you did.”

You can take her home, she can get you high

You can hold her heart even after you broke mine

You can kiss her softly, never make her cry

You can tell her that you love her as long as it's a lie

I wonder if he’s picturing her now. The girl he met last week at some party his brothers had dragged him to. I wasn’t there. I had been studying for an exam. I trusted him.

Matt leans against the wall, head bowed. I see his fingers trace his own tattoo, the same one I have. He doesn’t know I saw the texts, sweet nothings whispered at midnight, just hours after he promised me I was the only one.

“You’re good at lying,” I whisper, choking on the words.

He flinches, but doesn’t argue. A wave of anger crashes over me. “Do you tell her that you love her too?”

He doesn’t respond, and that’s answer enough. I want to tear the tattoo from my skin, want to rewind time and never meet him at that stupid restaurant where he’d spilled his drink on me.

As long as it's a lie

Promise you'll lie, promise you'll liе

His eyes meet mine for the first time tonight, desperation etched into his features. “I never meant for it to get this far.”

I laugh, and it’s an ugly, hollow sound. “So what are you going to do, Matt? Keep lying? Tell her you love her too? Or will you lie to me and say you didn’t mean it?”

He’s silent.

I want Matt to say that it was a mistake, that I’m still his first choice. But his silence is louder than any confession.

I still kept the ring

Even if I'll never be your bride, why? Why?

You can grow old together

As long as the last name on your lips is mine, mine, mine

My hand slips into my pocket, fingers brushing against the cold metal. I pull out the promise ring, the one he gave me after our first anniversary. The band glimmers under the dim light, a cruel reminder of all the dreams we built.

Matt sees it, his expression crumbling. He knows what it means, knows that I believed him when he promised he’d marry me someday. His shoulders sag as if the weight of his own lies is finally suffocating him.

“I thought we had forever,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

He takes a step toward me, but I shake my head, forcing him to stop. “Don’t,” I warn. “You can grow old with her, Matt. Just… promise me something.”

His lips part, hesitant. “Anything.”

“Promise me you’ll lie to her. Tell her she’s the only one, just like you told me. Keep lying, because I don’t want her to know the truth.”

His face twists with guilt.

Oh, I know I can't help if you meet someone else

If you meet someone else

There’s no more anger left in me, just an aching acceptance. I knew this day would come. Maybe I’d been preparing for it since the first time he smiled at me.

Matt opens his mouth to say something, but I cut him off. “Just go. Please.”

When the door finally closes behind them, silence floods the room. I stare at the promise ring in my palm, clenching it so hard the edges bite into my skin.

You can take her home, she can get you high

You can hold her heart even after you broke mine

You can kiss her softly, never make her cry

You can tell her that you love her as long as it's a lie

I lean back against the couch, breathing out shakily. The tattoo on my wrist feels like a brand, marking me as his even when he’s gone. I trace the lines, trying to remember the good days, the way he’d pull me close when the world got too loud.

Somewhere out there, Matt’s probably holding her, whispering lies just sweet enough to taste like truth. I wonder if he’ll ever think of me when he tells her he loves her.

I close my eyes, fighting the tears. I know I’ll survive this, but right now it feels like I’ve lost a part of myself.

I just stare at the ring, knowing that no matter how many promises he breaks, I’ll still be the one left holding the memories.

꧁𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞꧂

Back here in the same town, same bar

But now I don't even know you

It's like we look down, ignore

Now nothing's like it used to

The lights in the bar buzz overhead, casting a weak glow over scratched wooden tables and beer-sticky floors. My fingers wrap around a sweating glass, condensation dripping onto the napkin below. The music plays low. Not enough to distract, just enough to fill the silences.

Matt stands a few feet away.

He leans against the bar, his hair falling slightly over his eyes, hands buried in the pockets of a denim jacket I remember all too well. He doesn’t look at me. Not even a flicker of acknowledgment. Not even a twitch in his jaw.

I swallows hard. The last time we were in this bar, his fingers had been linked with mine, knuckles brushing on purpose, smiling like we had everything ahead of them. Now we’re strangers occupying the same stale air.

Chris laughs nearby, too loudly. He doesn’t notice me right away either. When his eyes do catch mine, they flash, surprise, guilt, regret. He looks away just as fast.

And that, somehow, hurts more.

Getting heavy to breathe in this room together

It's so awkward, we can't seem to do it better

Can't we just fake a smile, put our shit to the side?

The bartender pours me another drink without asking. Muscle memory. Familiar faces in an unfamiliar situation.

Matt shifts. His shoulders roll like he’s trying to get comfortable in skin that doesn’t fit. His eyes flick toward me for a second, too fast, too careful, before returning to the person in front of him. His lips part like he wants to say something. He doesn’t.

The air is thick, weighted with unspoken things. Every second stretches. I bite the inside of my cheek.

Chris glances between us, eyebrows pinched. He mutters something to Matt, but Matt shakes his head. The tension between the three of us is palpable, like a static charge that never breaks.

I lets out a breath. It feels like trying to breathe underwater.

For a second, I think about just walking over. Smiling. Saying hey, how have you been? Simple. Easy. But my limbs won’t move.

The silence between us isn’t peaceful. It’s loud. Screaming.

We don't need to be best friends

We don't need to hang again

But tell me why we have to be strangers?

'Cause I loved you once

Chris finally breaks. He moves closer to me under the guise of getting another soda.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low, eyes full of something more than just concern.

“I don’t know,” I admit, gaze drifting to Matt. “We don’t have to be close again. I’m not asking for that.”

Chris follows my eyes. His expression twists, like he’s caught between loyalty and guilt. “Then what are you asking for?”

“I just want him to look at me like I existed. Like I meant something.”

Chris sighs. “You did. That’s the problem.”

We don't need to act the same

But you act like you don't know my name

Tell me why we have to be strangers?

'Cause I loved you once

Matt moves. Not toward me, toward the door. The choice slices through my chest sharper than I expected.

I stand.

Our eyes finally meet.

His are darker now, older somehow. He freezes, his hand still on the door handle. It’s like time pauses. He still doesn’t say my name.

“Why do you act like I’m no one?” I ask. My voice isn’t loud, but it carries.

A few heads turn. Chris’s gaze burns into both of us, lips pressed into a tight line.

Matt opens his mouth, but no words come out.

What would you say if I

If I come over

And stand face to face now

Now that we're older

I don’t wait.

I step toward him, until there’s barely an inch of space between us. The scent of his cologne is familiar, almost painfully so. He blinks like I’m a ghost, like I might disappear if he breathes too hard.

I don’t.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she murmurs. “Just… stand here with me.”

Matt’s jaw tenses, but he doesn’t back away. His hand drops from the door. His shoulders slump like the weight of two years is finally landing.

Chris looks away.

This moment isn’t his.

Thinking after all this time

I just wanna meet your eyes

So I can remember why

Why I loved you once

He finally looks at me. Really looks. No flinching. No running.

I watch the flickers pass over his face. Recognition. Pain. Maybe even a little of the boy i once knew. The boy who used to trace lazy circles on my knee and ask about my dreams at 2 a.m.

“Y/N,” he says, and just hearing it makes something in me unravel.

It’s not an apology. But it’s something.

“That’s all I needed,” I whisper.

Thinking after all this time

We should leave it all behind

So I can remember why

Why I loved you once

We stand there, frozen in the middle of the bar, while the night keeps moving around us.

Matt takes a slow breath. “I didn’t know how to look at you without… feeling everything again.”

“You don’t have to feel everything,” I say. “Just enough to remember we were real.”

He nods. It’s quiet. Small. But honest.

Maybe we won’t talk after tonight. Maybe this is closure dressed in faded denim and stolen glances. Maybe that’s okay.

Some love stories don’t have to go on forever to matter.

We don't need to be best friends

We don't need to hang again

Tell me why we have to be strangers?

'Cause I loved you once

Chris approaches us slowly, his presence grounding. He gives Matt a look, one that says talk to her but also I get it.

Matt turns to me one last time. “We were good, weren’t we?”

I smile softly. “Yeah. We were.”

Then I step away.

Not because it’s over. But because it happened.

And that’s enough.

꧁𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭꧂

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢’𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐋𝐄𝐖) ☞︎ 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 (𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐞) ☞︎ 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐋𝐢𝐞 (𝐍𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭) ☞︎ 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐍𝐞𝐰𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤 (𝐋𝐞𝐱𝐢 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐞) ☞︎ 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐖𝐘𝐃 𝐧𝐨𝐰? (𝐒𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐧) ☞︎ 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 (𝐀𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞, 𝐒𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞) ☞︎ 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭’𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐋𝐞𝐱𝐢 𝐉𝐚𝐲𝐝𝐞) ☞︎ 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

꧁𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐢’𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮꧂

We're just friends right?

Like we've been right?

So you can tell me 'bout the girl that you kissed last night

Keep going on about staying at her house

It's not like I feel like I could throw up right now

Chris leans against the hood of my car, the dusk light brushing golden on his cheekbones.

I nod along as he tells me about some girl from last night, Talia? I don’t care to remember.

He’s laughing, playing with my car keys, tossing them in his hand like the words mean nothing.

“She kissed me first,” he says, smirking. “Kinda wild, right?”

My lips press into a smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. I hope he doesn’t notice the way my fingers tighten around the soda can I’m holding.

“Yeah, wild,” I echo, voice lighter than it feels.

He keeps going, how they ended up at her place, how her dog wouldn’t stop barking. Every word stings like gravel in my shoes. I’m nodding, smiling, listening. But my stomach flips over itself.

Just friends. Like always.

Then why do I feel like i could throw up?

You're my ride or die

So I'm not jealous right?

'Cause the way I feel about you is just black and white

And I ain't been staying up

Overthinking us

Tripping all over these feelings, nah that'd be dumb

Chris throws an arm around my shoulder when we’re walking back to his house. It’s casual. Friendly, even. He’s always done this, always been tactile. I used to crave these moments. Now I dread how normal they feel.

“I swear, you’re the only one who actually gets me,” he says.

I grin. “That’s because I have no choice.”

He laughs, and my chest aches.

I tell myself it’s nothing. That I’m not up at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering if he ever thinks of me the way I think of him.

That I’m not spiraling every time he texts someone else more than me.

Feelings? Dumb. That’s not what this is.

Right?

It's fine, yeah it's cool

Not like I wanna make a move

It's fine, yeah it's cool

It's not like I'm in love with you

Shit

I’m sitting on his bed, legs crossed, watching him change shirts. He throws one off, another on. I try not to stare.

He turns, catches my gaze. “You good?”

“Yeah, totally.” I swallow. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He shrugs, flops down next to me. His thigh presses against mine. I don’t move. Can’t. If I shift, I’ll lose that inch of contact, and it might feel like losing everything.

It’s fine. It’s cool.

Not like I want to reach out and trace his jawline. Not like I want to lean in, close the gap.

Not like I’m in love with him.

Shit.

No I'm not feeling unwell

No it's not scary as hell that I

Want you more than anyone else

Want your body all to myself

I’m quiet on the ride home. Chris notices.

“You’re being weird,” he says, glancing over at me with a crooked smile. “What’s in that head of yours?”

I look out the window, watching streetlights smear into blurs. “Nothing. Just tired.”

But it’s everything. It’s wanting him to grab my hand on the gearshift. It’s the way my heart slams every time his fingers graze mine by accident. It’s the unbearable realization that no one else makes me feel this way.

I want him. All of him.

And yeah, it’s terrifying.

It's not likе I'm losing my head

Thinking 'bout you in my bed

Keep doing that thing you do

It's not like I'm in lovе with you

The nights are the worst. That’s when the walls drop. When I picture what it would feel like if he looked at me like that. Like the way he looks at her.

I imagine the warmth of him beside me, the way his voice would sound in my ear, soft and close. His laugh in the dark.

I clench my pillow and try to think of something else. Anything else. But then you hear his voice in my head again, teasing, comforting, familiar.

I bury my face in the pillow.

No. This is not love.

I’m just… tired.

It started slow but then like dominoes

I started free falling for you, no control

Couldn't hide the truth from my friends too

It's not like everybody knows but you

It wasn’t always like this.

At first, he was just the boy who made me laugh too loud in class, who shared playlists and drinks and late-night drives. Somewhere along the line, I stopped noticing other people.

And my friends? They see it. The lingering looks. The way my mood depends on his texts. The way my eyes follow him across a room like a magnetic pull I can’t explain.

They know.

Everyone knows.

Except him.

It's fine, yeah it's cool

I totally know what to do

It's fine, yeah it's cool

It's not like I'm in love with you

I sit on the curb outside, knees tucked to my chest. Chris is beside me, fiddling with his shoelaces.

“So… that girl from the other night?” I say, voice too steady.

He hums. “What about her?”

“Are you seeing her again?”

He pauses. “Nah. Wasn’t really into it.”

Relief floods me. I hate that it does.

I laugh it off. “Cool. Yeah. Just wondering.”

It’s fine. I’ve got this. No feelings. No confessions.

Totally normal.

Totally not in love.

It's not like I'm losing my head

Thinking 'bout you in my bed

Keep doing that thing you do

It's not like I'm in love with you

I’m at his house again. Movie playing. Popcorn between us. He reaches over, dusts a kernel off my hoodie, his fingers lingering longer than they should.

I freeze.

He meets my eyes. Something flickers in his.

“You always look at me like that?” he says softly.

My heart stops.

“Like what?”

He tilts his head, studying me. “Like I matter more than I should.”

I laugh, but it cracks halfway. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He smiles. “Wouldn’t dare.”

And I sit there, pulse racing, wondering how long I can keep pretending this is nothing.

I'm in love

I'm in love

I'm in love with you

But it's not like I'm in love with you

Chris walks me to my car. The sky is black velvet and the stars feel too bright. I hesitate before getting in. So does he.

“Hey,” he says, voice lower now. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “If I kissed you right now… would it ruin everything?”

I stop breathing.

My heart answers before my mouth does.

“No,” I whisper. “It might fix it.”

He steps closer.

And when he kisses me. It’s not fireworks. It’s not dramatic. It’s quiet and real and everything i’ve tried not to feel for months.

I’m in love.

And it’s not like I’m in love with him.

I am.

꧁𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭?꧂

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You reunites with your ex, Chris Sturniolo, after a late-night text stirs up unresolved feelings. Despite knowing it’s a bad idea, you visit him, and fall back into old habits. Proving that closure is messier than it seems.

I haven't heard from you in a couple of months

But I'm out right now, and I'm all fucked up

And you're callin' my phone, you're all alone

And I'm sensin' some undertone

Music pulses through the floor as lights flicker like blinking thoughts. I am sandwiched between bodies that sway out of rhythm, a drink clenched tight in my hand, condensation leaking onto my wrist. My lipstick is smudged, but i don’t care. The music is too loud, my head too light.

I’m laughing at something my friend said, something about shots and bad decisions. That’s when my phone buzzes in my bag. I shouldn’t check it. But I do.

Chris Sturniolo

His name lights the screen like a warning sign on a highway I pretend not to see.

We haven’t spoken in months. Not really. A few likes, a story view here and there. But nothing like this. Nothing like this at all.

“You up?”

It’s short, vague, just enough to stir the part of me that knows how this ends.

I type, stop. His typing bubble appears first.

Then another text from him comes through

“Just thinking about you.”

I exhale, slow. My stomach clenches, but not from the alcohol.

And I'm right here with all my friends

But you're sendin' me your new address

And I know we're done, I know we're through

But, God, when I look at you

My friend shouts something over the music. I nod like I hear it, but i don’t. My phone buzzes again. An address.

New place. He moved.

I look up, blurry-eyed, my fingers tightening around the glass. I shouldn’t go. This isn’t my story anymore.

But a memory flashes.

Chris at my door in the rain, sweatshirt soaked through, grinning like it’s nothing.

“Forgot my umbrella,” he’d said, sheepish. “Figured you’d forgive me.”

He always knew how to show up at just the right time.

The screen dims. My reflection stares back, flushed cheeks, guilty lips.

I bite the inside of my cheek. God, he was trouble.

My brain goes, "Ah"

Can't hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts)

Like blah-blah-blah (blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah)

Should probably not, I should probably, probably not

I should probably, probably not

I tell myself I won’t answer. I just stare at the address for a minute, then tuck the phone away and lose myself in the dance floor chaos. That’s what normal people do. That’s what healed people do.

But my heart is sprinting. My brain is a mess of static.

“Just one drink,” I lie to myself. “One conversation.”

I’m already walking toward the coat rack before I’m done thinking the thought.

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

Seein' you tonight, fuck it, it's fine

The Uber reeks of old fries and lavender. The driver doesn’t speak much, which is a blessing. I stare out the window, phone screen dim in my lap, thumb hovering over the message app.

A part of me wishes he would say something dumb, something that would make it easier to stay away. But he doesn’t. Just that quiet, careful check-in. The kind that sounds innocent, but drips with unfinished business.

I type

“On my way”

Sends it.

Lean my head back against the window.

“Fuck it,” I whispers to no one.

Yes, I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect?

"I only see him as a friend, " the biggest lie I ever said

Oh, yes, I know that he's my ex, but can't two people reconnect?

I only see him as a friend, I just tripped and fell into his bed

There’s history there, but not the kind you put in photo albums. More like scars under clothes.

Chris was never good at staying. He’d leave dishes in the sink, texts unread, conversations half. But he also wrote me poems in the Notes app and whispered apologies into my neck.

We ended things because we had to, not because we wanted to. Timing was off. Tempers too short. Hearts too full.

So when my friends asked, i said what i had to.

“Chris? We’re cool. Just friends now.”

I said it with a smile, like the words didn’t taste bitter.

But that was before tonight. Before this drink. Before his name slid back into my phone like it never left.

Now I'm gettin' in the car, wreckin' all my plans

I know I should stop, but I can't

And I told my friends I was asleep

But I never said where or in whose sheets

I texts the group chat a half-truth

“Heading home, so dead. Love u all.”

Then silences my phone.

The streetlights blur past as I fiddles with the hem of my skirt. I was supposed to crash at Lily’s. Wake up late. Eat pancakes.

Instead, i’m following muscle memory.

I’m not sure what I want. Closure? Chaos? Comfort?

And I pull up to your place, on the second floor

And you're standin', smilin' at the door

And I'm sure I've seen much hotter men

But I really can't remember when

His place looks different. cleaner, newer. But he looks the same.

Hoodie, jeans, hair a little longer than before. Hands shoved in his pockets. A half-smile curling his lips like he knew I would show up all along.

“Hey,” he says, voice low and familiar.

I swallow. Try not to stare. Fail.

“I shouldn’t be here,” I say.

He steps back, holds the door open. “But you are.”

And I walk in. Of course I do.

My brain goes, "Ah"

Can't hear my thoughts (I cannot hear my thoughts)

Like blah-blah-blah (blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah)

Should probably not, I should probably, probably not

I should probably, probably not

The air between us hums.

We sit on opposite sides of the couch like we are pretending to keep distance, like that makes a difference now.

“New place suits you,” i say, picking at a thread on his throw pillow.

He laughs, low and crooked. “You suit it better.”

I glance up. There’s a softness in his eyes i haven’t seen since fall. Since that fight, voices rising, fingers clenched. When we said too much and not enough.

I should leave. I should run.

Instead, my hand brushes his. Once. Then again.

It’s gravity.

Seein' you tonight, it's a bad idea, right?

His thumb is on my chin, tilting my face toward his.

We don’t kiss right away. We just… look.

He touches me like he’s remembering. Like he’s afraid he’ll forget again.

My breath catche. Our foreheads touch.

“This is a bad idea,” i murmur.

He nods, lips ghosting mine. “The worst.”

Then we stop pretending.

Oh, yes, I know that he's my ex

Can't two people reconnect?

The biggest lie I ever said

I just tripped and fell into his bed

It’s later. Hours, maybe.

The room smells like his cologne and something warmer. Something that lingers in my hair.

I’m lying on my stomach, cheek on his chest. The rise and fall of it anchors me.

He’s tracing circles on my back, lazy, absentminded. Like he used to. Like nothing changed.

But it did. It always does.

I should feel guilty. Maybe i do.

But there’s a peace in the mess. A quiet in the chaos.

I close my eyes.

“Still think it was a bad idea?” he whisper.

I smile against his skin.

“Yeah. But it’s the only one that ever felt this good.”

꧁𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭꧂

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Y/N looks back on a lost relationship with Chris, realizing too late that her fear and self-sabotage pushed away the one person who stayed through everything. Now alone, she’s left with nothing but regret. And the truth that she was never the best to him.

I was bored out my mind

Lost my whole appetite

When I could come to life, I didn't

You were there all the time

You're the worst of my crimes

You fell hard, I thought, "Good riddance"

I don’t notice how long I’ve been staring at the ceiling until the room goes from blue to black. The kind of numbness I’ve wrapped myself in has no shape, no sound. Just a flat, constant hum behind my ribs. I haven’t eaten in two days, but it doesn’t feel urgent. Just another thing I’m forgetting how to want.

The takeout containers by the door are still full. Chris left them the last time he came over. He said something like, “You need to eat, Y/N,” and I didn’t answer. Just nodded, like I’d do it after he left. I never did.

I remember the way he sat at the edge of the couch, unsure whether to stay or leave. He always lingered, hoping I’d change, come back to myself, be someone again.

But I didn’t.

And still, he stayed. Always there. Always trying.

And when he finally fell, truly, hopelessly fell. I remember thinking, good riddance.

Because if he loved me, he had to be wrong. And if he was wrong, maybe I wasn’t.

I never was the best to you

I never was the best to you

I never was, I never was

I scroll through old photos. The kind that catch you off guard because you can’t remember feeling the way you look.

Chris is smiling in almost every one. He was always reaching toward the light, even when I stood in shadow.

Me? I just existed beside him. Distant. Cold. Unwilling to meet him halfway.

I wasn’t cruel. Not in the way people write songs about. But I was careless. That quiet kind of cruelty. The one that kills things slowly.

I was never the best to him.

Not when it counted.

Not when it mattered most.

And now I sit with the proof of it. In every photo, in every silence I let stretch too long, in every call I ignored.

Used to lie to your face

20 times in a day

It was my little strange addiction

But you still tried to stay

While I'd self-isolate

And I knew, but I stayed hidden

“I’m okay,” I’d say.

Over and over again.

Even when the weight in my chest makes it hard to breathe.

Even when he ask, “Are you sure?”

I’ve become addicted to the lie. The power of pretending I don’t need anything from him. That I ain’t broken. That I can handle myself.

But Chris… he always knows.

He text me “Are you up?”

And I leave it unanswered while sitting with the phone in my hand.

He knock on my door and I wait, just long enough to punish us both, before finally opening it with a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.

I push him out with silence, then panic when he steps back.

He tried to stay. Every time.

And I knew what I was doing.

I knew he deserved better.

But I kept myself hidden because if he saw all of me. Really saw. He’d leave.

I was wrong.

He saw everything and still stayed.

And I punished him for it.

I never was the best to you

I never was the best to you

I never was, I never was

The night he left, he didn’t yell. Didn’t beg.

He just stood in the doorway, jacket in his hand, staring at me like he didn’t recognize who he’d fallen in love with.

“I can’t do this anymore, Y/N,” he says quietly.

I just blinks at him. My throat is tight, my heart is pounding, but I don’t move. I don’t stop him.

“Say something,” he whisper.

I want to. I do. But nothing comes out. I don’t know how to tell him I need him to stay when I’d spent months convincing him I don’t care.

So he turns, and the door shut behind him like the final page of a story I will never finish reading.

And all I can think is: I never was the best to you.

Not once.

Not even close.

And I destroyed every silver lining you had

In your head, all of your feelings, I played with them

Go ahead, we can just call it conditioning

Chris always found beauty in everything. In city lights, in old records, in strangers on trains. And in me.

He said I made things interesting. That my silence didn’t scare him. That my sharp edges didn’t cut.

But I took every soft thing he gave and shredded it with my fear.

He’d leave sweet notes on my pillow. I would read them and roll my eyes.

He’d tell me he loved me. I’d smile, but never say it back.

Maybe I was conditioned to think love came with conditions. That if I gave in, he’d leave. That if I let him know how much I needed him, it would be a weakness.

So instead, I played with his feelings like they were strings I could pull. And now the music is gone.

We were too different, you were so sensitive

Gave me the best of that, I was so negligent

Now I feel terrible 'bout how I handled it

Chris felt everything.

He’d cry at movies. Get overwhelmed in crowds. He was soft in all the ways I wasn’t.

I used to tease him for it. “You’re too sensitive,” I’d say, brushing off his hurt like it was something small. Like his pain was inconvenient.

But now I realize. He gave me the best of that sensitivity. The kind of love that notices. That stays. That doesn’t give up when things get hard.

And I didn’t just take it for granted. I broke it.

Piece by piece. With every eye roll, every missed call, every unspoken word.

I handled it all wrong.

And I don’t know how to tell him I finally see that.

And now I, now I bet you resent all of me, all of it

Angry, blocking me over the internet

Promise I don't forget all of my fault in this

'Cause look at me, I'm alone, sitting here, staying home

All of my self-control kinda got difficult

But I deserve it though, I deserve it though

Chris blocked me two weeks after he left.

I know because I tried to send a dumb meme I thought he’d laugh at. Pure habit. And it bounced back.

That’s how I know I really lost him. Not just in the way people drift, but in the way people make the choice not to look back.

I scroll through our old texts sometimes, reading his words like they belong to someone else. Someone who still believed I was worth the work.

I deserve this.

The silence. The space. The ache.

I deserve to be alone in this apartment with nothing but the echo of what I let die.

I used to pride myself on control, on not needing anyone. But all of it slips through me now. And I finally get it.

I pushed him away because I didn’t know how to be loved.

But I never stopped wanting it.

You were there all the time

You're the worst of my crimes

You fell hard, I thought, "Good riddance"

It’s raining tonight.

I sit by the window with a blanket wrapped tight around me, watching the drops race down the glass. I wonder if he’s watching the same sky. If he has moved on. If someone else gets to see the smile he used to save for me.

I close my eyes and picture his laugh. The way his eyes crinkled, how he’d lean into me like I was the safest place in the world.

He was there. All the time. Every moment I pulled away, he pulled closer.

And I let him.

Until I didn’t.

He’s the kind of love you don’t get twice. And I was the kind of mistake that ruins it for good.

He fell hard

And I let him.

I thought, good riddance.

But I was wrong.

I think of him every night now.

And all I can think is

Come back.

- 𝐇𝐞𝐲𝐲𝐲 <𝟑 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞. 𝐒𝐨 𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠? ❤︎︎