#(unlikely

But Bradley was too damned lost, too scared. So he left Jake crumpled on their living room floor, stomping on his already broken heart on the way out the door.

Hangman was born that day — and now every time Bradley runs into Jake over the years he’s haunted by the version of him he helped create.

Jake knew exactly how much it tore Bradley up to see him so cold. So he twisted the knife deeper every time they crossed paths— taunted him, cut him down, left the people he loved hanging— because damn it Bradley had done that to him first.

Jake never dated again. Never even considered it. Decided he wasn’t built for relationships, let alone love. Decided he didn’t deserve it.

Then the suicide mission happened, and Bradley finally pulled his head out of his ass long enough to realize just how badly he fucked up. But it was too late.

Jake would never take him back— not after Bradley watched him lay himself bare, heart and soul, only for him to walk out the door anyway.

Now it’s Bradley’s turn to weep. To claw and tear at the walls Jake built around his shattered heart— a heart broken by Bradley’s own bleeding hands. His head hits his pillow each night with regret weighing on chest, still haunted by the sound of Jake’s sobs five years later.