imagine being brokenblade, breaking up with your jungler after he gets kicked out of your team and finding that you aren't moving on as fast or as easily as you would've liked; you still miss him, and that he's not like any of the other flings you've had in the past and that it hurts, it angers you to see another team's jersey on his back. you're still on good terms, but he seems to have moved on so much quicker, and it doesn't make sense because technically, you're the one who dropped him.
you want to be happy for him when he starts winning and succeeding without you because you don't want to be just some jealous ex, and at first you aren't, but when you start noticing just how close he is with his new toplaner, you can't help yourself. you beat him in the winner's bracket and advance to finals, and it feels good. you feel bad about your own bitterness and keep it all inside because the competition comes first - winning, that's what this all comes down to in the end anyways, right?
well, jokes on you - he comes back fucking swinging and sweeps you 3-0 in the finals. it's not even close. and you have to watch from the sidelines, numb, as he lifts the trophy without you for the first time, with another toplaner's arms around him, another toplaner's hand on his lower back. you see him smile, and cheer, and it feels awful, like someone's plunging a knife in your heart every time his laughter rings out. and all you want is to be able to laugh with him, to celebrate with him again, with him at your side like things are meant to be.
prguitarman
dededos
dailybridgerton
kianamaiart
2087
turnnoffyourmind
tangentwithtanner
