He would never ask for you back. What would be the point? People left; that was just life. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. He’d taught himself to take it in stride, brushing it off. So why were you still here, lying in his lap, staring up at him with that unreadable expression? His lips curved into a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Trying to mirror you.

His fingers toyed with strands of your hair mindlessly, while his own golden locks brushed against your face. The closeness was suffocating yet familiar. It was something he hated yet craved so badly.

He despised the word exes. It sounded childish, as though it could somehow summarize what you had been. What you still were. But admitting you meant something to him… that was weakness, wasn’t it? You were nothing. Or at least, that’s what he kept trying to convince himself.

“You’re weak,” he said suddenly, his voice venomous yet lacked its usual sting. His gaze didn’t waver, but his tone was too conflicted. Exposing him. His fingers, still tangled in your hair, moved with a tenderness he didn’t want to face. “Life gets hard, and you come crawling right back. You’re pathetic.”

But deep down, Kaiser knew he was the pathetic one. He was the hypocrite. The second your name lit up his phone, he’d pick up within three rings. The moment you showed up at his door, he’d let you in without a second thought. Every text, every call, every single time… you didn’t even have to ask. And still, he clung to this delusion that you were the one who couldn’t let go.

As he looked down at you still, he saw the one thing he truly couldn’t live without. This wasn’t nothing. You weren’t nothing. But some truths were better left unsaid. An ex should stay an ex. That’s what he told himself. Over and over.

So why did it feel like lying?