#skipdisc

                              “    save    your    tears    for    something    worth    crying    over,     don’t    waste    them    on    misfortune    .    ”    thumbing    away    tears,    fingers    dip    and    gently    lift    their    chin    .    offers    all    he    can    muster    of    a    grin    and    pulls    the    other    into    an    embrace    .    “    quit    cryin'    already,    you're    gonna    get    all    splotchy    and    snotty    .    it    ain't    a    great    look    on    'ya    .    ” / @skipdisc

a year later, the frantic, breathless energy had settled into a deep, warm, and steady glow. the space between their two houses was no longer a daunting divide but a well worn path, and more often than not, joey's coat hung next to lia’s in her entryway. even carmen had her own little doggy bed, next to the stairs. he was no longer the estranged next door neighbor, who hung up her christmas lights last minute, and brought steak over to substitute frozen chicken nuggets, when the kids were out of town. they were building something together ... this time of the year was always hectic, but the kids were down, the house was theirs, a sacred, silent cathedral he'd learn to savor, with wool blankets, but she seemed miles away. he handed her a glass of wine, a rich red he’d been saving for a night just like this, pulling her legs into his lap without a second thought. "okay, your turn." voice a husky invitation, but also a means to break her thoughts. "what’s the one thing you want for christmas this year that you’d never actually write on a list for santa? and im not talking about something for the kids, but something just for you." | @skipdisc

                         “hey,”     she     said,     tone     edged     with     something     that     wasn’t     entirely     polite.     “long     time,     no     see.     you’re     never     here     in     this     part     of     town.”     her     gaze     lingered     on     amara     just     a     second     too     long,     enough     to     make     her     presence     feel     like     a     blade     between     them.     blake     forced     a     laugh.     “yeah,     uh     —     just     grabbin’     coffee.”     he     didn’t     dare     look     at     amara.     “taylor,     this     is—”     he     stopped     himself.     introducing     them     felt     like     pouring     gasoline     on     a     fire.     “uh,     this     is     my     friend.”     taylor     arched     her     eyebrows     in     a     way     that     made     it     clear     she     was     unconvinced     by     his     feeble     introduction.     yet,     she     chose     not     to     pry     further.     “right,”     she     said,     like     she     knew     exactly     what     it     meant.     “well.     it     was     good     seein’     you,     blakey.     enjoy     your     coffee     with     your     friend!”     she     gave     amara     a     once-over     that     carried     more     weight     than     words,     then     breezed     to     the     door.     blakey.     the     nickname     made     his     skin     crawl.     the     silence     that     followed     was     suffocating.     he     shifted     in     his     seat     and     stared     hard     at     his     coffee     cup,     his     jaw     tight.     “don’t,”     he     warned,     his     voice     low.     “whatever     you’re     about     to     say     —     just     don’t.”

it's been six months since they've broken up, and tristan still can't bring himself to delete her number. not because he held onto hope — he told himself that part was over. it's easier to play pretend, like it might still come in handy someday. like today. he's standing outside the marina café, tugging at the collar of his too-tight jacket, the early spring wind biting as hard as his nerves. the plan sounded stupid out loud. just act like you still love me for one weekend, my parents can't know we ended it over a fight about my job and your fear of commitment, or whatever the hell they had both been too proud to unpack. he looks up as sloane walks in, her blue doe eyes piercing right through him. "thanks for meeting me," he starts, awkwardness punctuating each syllable, thumb brushing over the condensation on his coffee cup. "i know you're not keen on dragging this out, and neither am i, so i'll get straight to the point... i, uh, i may not have told my parents we broke up. and we're supposed to have dinner with them. tonight.” ( @skipdisc )

                              ❝      i      want      the      same      as      you      ...      at      least      i      think      i      do.      i      know      that      i'm      bound      to      lose      this      match      between      us.      ❞