B2b — Charli XCX

It always starts the same way—with Otoya showing up at your door like he’s got nowhere else to be. Like you’re some sort of gravitational pull he can’t escape.

The first time, you thought it was casual. The second, you started to wonder. By the fifth, you realized you were his fallback—the soft place he lands when she pushes him away. And you let him.

You hear his footsteps in the hallway before you even open the door. You know his rhythm by now—lazy, uneven, like he’s not really in a hurry but still expects you to be waiting. When you swing the door open, there he is. Same stupid hair, same cocky grin, same golden eyes that flicker like maybe he’s too sure you’ll let him in this time.

“I was in need of seeing a pretty face tonight,” he says, voice too flirty, too practiced.

Right off the bat, you knew that his main wasn't available to him and you were sick of being second to his first. You cross your arms, leaning in the doorway but making no move to step aside. Your voice is cold, laced with something heavier than disappointment. “Maybe you should run right back to her.”

The words hang between you, sharp and deliberate. His grin falters, but only for a second.

“You don’t mean that,” he teases, like he can charm his way out of this, like you’ll crumble if he just leans a little closer. “You’ve always been here.”

You let that sink in. Yeah, you’ve always been here. Always the second choice. Always the one he runs to when she stops picking up his calls. Always the one who puts him back together just so he can break you when he leaves.

His playful smirk twitches, like he’s realizing this isn’t going to go the way it usually does.

“You only come to me when things fall apart with her. When you’re with her, I don’t even exist to you.”

“That’s not—”

When you close the door, it’s not with anger. It’s with something colder, something final. The lock clicks into place with a quietness that hits him harder than if you’d slammed it.

For the first time, Otoya is left wondering if this time, you won’t open it again.