You saw her green hair. Two seats down, across from the row you pressed back against. The subway was crowded and you blended in with every other NPC in the train car, but she stuck out like a sore thumb. Long and confident hair stroked the edges of her skin, cascading down her body in a gentle wave where she sat, two seats down.

She’s only two seats down from you. You could make that distance work. You could go up to her and ask how she was doing. If she missed you, because you missed her. You would make it work, if it weren’t for the fact you were the one who promised not to call anymore.

Did she really expect you to keep your end of the bargain? The emptiness she left behind made the floor crumble beneath your feet.

Her stop’s the next one. The largeness of her presence still lingered. Loving is remembering, but hatred is the same coin.

You remembered how she kissed you after games, sweaty and accomplished while she held you so tightly like you were the trophy she’d been waiting for. You remembered when she would slap your hand away when you tried to get close, telling you she’s in a bad mood. You remembered her never saying I love you, but you remembered when she would cuddle you for hours on end. You remembered the warmth of her chest amplifying the knot in your stomach. It felt like she got close just to get close. You weren’t insecure or needed affirmations everyday, but the way she avoided “love” like a disease made your heart eat itself out.

Your throat grew tighter the longer you stared. How could she sit there so calmly while you’re running marathons in your head, chasing the fleeting scents of her perfume? Your eyebrows knit together as you watched each rise and fall of her chest, catching yourself feeling like a creep when that chest, that body, was once only yours to cherish. You still remembered her signature scent when she would come out of the shower, the bathroom light shining on her like stars ran through her skin.

She didn’t even look at you once.

The subway chimed its tune, warning people of the risks of getting too close to the platform. Passengers hopped on and off, and you watched as she stood with her eyes to her phone like the world around her didn’t exist. Like you didn’t exist. As if you were never once her world, or even part of it. The reminder made you swell with tears.

She disappeared behind someone wearing a yellow cardigan, and you couldn’t find her anymore.

Parties weren’t ever her thing. She’d hate it if she were here right now, and you’re half glad but half not that she wasn’t. You wanted her to suffer through every discomfort she had, but you wished the best for her as well. Forgiveness was crossed out and burned already, so the most you could hope for was to live and let go.

You floated your way to the kitchen, red cup filled with something in your hand while the music from the living room blasted against the walls. The murmurs of people around you were distant and ringing your ears numb. Nobody was getting close to you and you were okay with that. It didn’t feel like you could hold any sort of conversation right now anyway. You had to blink a few times, unsure if the haze in your vision was because of alcohol or that rotting feeling in your head you couldn’t get rid of.

Then, as if you weren’t already thinking about her, some girl crossed the room and wafted her stupid perfume right in your face. Your nose crinkled at the strength of the smell before the corners of your eyes crinkled as well, blinking back welling tears that did not help the blurriness in your vision.

That’s her scent. It’s her signature. You were angry at that random for using it like she owned it, but also angry at the stinging reminder of her. This party sucked. No one liked each other and you were angry at the fact that you couldn’t turn to your girlfriend and point out who hated who anymore, because she never paid much attention to outside drama. You didn’t have someone to beat the dead horse with anymore, to proclaim loudly: “they’re so annoying” right as someone walks by. You wonder if she’s doing that about you right now, and if she would’ve done that had she been at this party.

You shook your head at the thought. It’s too cruel, even for her. You didn’t want this warped image. The girl you knew before was not the girl you knew now, you’re aware, but the last impression you were left with bled through every image you had of her. No memory crawled through your mind untainted. You’re now also remembering the way you hesitated to tear up the pictures you had of her, instead stashing it in a shoebox in the corner of your closet. She didn’t deserve that.

You choked on your sob once, feeling fresher tears pour over your face and you wiped them with your hand. You had to leave the room and the party entirely. The red cup’s juice or alcohol lingered on your tongue, the sweet liquid quickly tasting like a bitter memory.

This loop you were trapped in, feeding off of the love that you still dragged with you, made your days blur together. Was it Wednesday or Friday? You couldn’t say. Despite having a planner open on your desk, with ‘4 month!’ circled in red pen, you didn’t touch it. You didn’t want to touch anything but yourself, as if your fingerprints could replace the burns on your body that she pressed herself into. There was a lazy goal scrawled on the pages for you to forget about her and move on. Easier said than done.

You spent most days curled up on your bed, crying until your heart was numb from the aching. Why? you would ask yourself. Why didn’t she ever say it back? Why did her body feel so empty? Why does she get to move on while you’re here, recounting each day of your relationship?

The first day you ever met. The day you two hung out for the first time. The day you made it official. Why couldn’t you think about them without your stomach wanting to come up again? You wished desperately for the memories to separate from the person you knew now. They were happy— you were happy— but every little thing that reminded you of her made your lips quiver and your eyes start to shake. It’s the way you still pressed your face into her unwashed jersey that she’d gifted to you, keeping the smell of her body in your system. She always looked at you like you were meant to be hers whenever you wore it after her games.

Did she ever care at all?

Your urges to plunge your fingers inside of you while thinking of her calloused hands always won. She always won. It’s not just the sex you miss or the feeling of her chest against yours that you crave, but the fact that it was you. She was yours and you were hers whenever you’d run your hands over her smooth skin.

You missed her completeness. Her gaps filled yours like a two piece puzzle. She made things feel right and secure every night when she would bite your neck softly; teeth sunk into flesh and you’d rush with dopamine while your hips bucked into hers. Her tongue was euphoria and you were an addict.

She wasn’t your first love, but she was your first heartbreak.

Fuck this city. You should move to somewhere crazy. Start anew, where nobody knows you enough to keep on checking on you when you can’t pick up the phone without staring at her contact. Move to somewhere like Saskatchewan, where nobody knows her. At least there, you could masturbate in peace.

Your eyes never stopped searching for her. Every subway car that passed made you pray for a glimpse of her teal eyes or the back of her head simultaneously with hopes that you’d never see that scowl or the indifference in her expression again. You waited like an idiot at the station’s staircase where she’d meet with you on her days off, scanning every face that passed by without meaning to. You couldn’t find her anymore.

She never felt within your reach. It felt like every hug you’d given her made the chasm deeper. What was it about you that she couldn’t love? What did you need to change? What did you do?

If someone can’t love you for who you are, fine. It was just the fact that she couldn’t love you for who you are. It tore your soul into pieces, thinking about the days where she’d sit and stare at you during dinner. Was she wondering why she even kept you around? Or was it that she loved you so much that she couldn’t hold on?

Your prayers and wishes for her to come back, to stop playing these games, disappeared in the dark of your room. You couldn’t tell if it was dusk or dawn, the days never looking bright enough for you to leave your bed.

She always liked the quiet of the night. She liked evening training when everything was silent, and the only sounds she could hear were breathing and the pong! of a ball. It was never quiet enough to hear the sounds of her heartbeat, if she even had one. You tried to stay silent for her, so she could come to you whenever she was ready. Silence only stretched the distance, and you’re the one left wondering what you did wrong. You stayed motionless while she never stopped pushing forward.

You’d change for her. You did change for her. Was it not enough or too much? She never told you what was on her mind— did she ever let her walls down at all? What was the war that separated you two? What made her so distant?

Questions you whispered to your pillows always came back unanswered. It was only a sickening reminder of your relationship. Never getting a straight answer. Never knowing what went wrong.