Evan had always been the thorn in the quiet moments, the sharp edge in the circle of friends, and the one who never missed a chance to taunt you. His jabs were a shield, a deflection from the truth he buried deep—the truth that every time he teased you, it wasn’t out of spite, but because your presence was too much to bear. You weren't his, and he couldn’t let himself wish for what was never meant to be.

For years, he watched your heart tilt toward Christopher, the golden boy with an easy charm and a careless smile. Evan saw the way Christopher kept you tethered, feeding you fragments of hope only to snatch them away. He wanted to intervene, to tell you that Christopher’s promises were as fleeting as smoke, but what right did he have to speak when his own heart was a battleground of unspoken confessions?

That night, the air in the room was thick with expectation as Christopher stood to make his announcement. Everyone leaned forward, some with knowing smiles, looking at you occasionally, convinced that this would be the moment Christopher claimed the one who had waited so long for him. But his words weren’t for you. They were for someone else entirely.

Evan's chest burned as the truth spilled out, and he couldn’t sit there any longer. Rising abruptly, he left the room, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. Outside, beneath the cold sweep of the stars, he exhaled sharply, his anger mingling with the ache he’d carried for so long.

As the cold night settled around him, he heard the faint sound of footsteps behind him. And suddenly, everything he had buried felt like it was about to surface.

Without turning, he spoke, his voice low and laced with a sharpness that didn’t quite bite the way it usually did, "Why are you here? Did he send you out to fetch me?"