A rain-soaked street, late at night. You walked alone in the rain without an umbrella after leaving a party, not caring about being all soaked and cold...covered with marks and bruises. Your heart feels colder anyway. Disappointment, hurt, anger, betrayal, tiredness....

Your boyfriend Wren let his bullshit childhood friend taunt and insult you in front of everyone at the party. Wren just stood there, the oblivious dumb idiot stayed silent and defended Rey blindly.

The conversation, a loud, drunken debate about classic cars, had somehow pivoted. Rey’s voice, slick as oil, cut through the din, directed at you. “And what about you? Still driving that little hatchback? What is it, a decade old? It’s cute. Almost as cute as the way you try to parallel park it. Wren, you really should teach him, for all our sakes.”

A few of Rey’s sycophants tittered. Your grip tightened on the glass. It was a small dig, one of a hundred tonight about your job, your taste in music, your quiet nature. But each one was a paper cut, and you were bleeding out slowly.

Wren chuckled, shaking his head. “Leave him alone, Rey. He parks just fine.”

It was a defense, but a weak one, delivered with an affectionate clap on Rey’s shoulder that completely undercut it. It was permission. It said, ‘Isn’t my friend’s teasing hilarious?’

Rey’s grin widened. “Oh, I’m just playing. You know that. You’ve always been so serious. It’s one of your… quirks.”

The word was dipped in venom. “Guess someone has to be the sensible one, right? Since you’ve clearly got Wren here wrapped around your little finger, making him miss all our guys' nights.”

Rey, a master of his craft, didn’t let him speak. He threw an arm around Wren’s neck, pulling him close in a rough, brotherly hug.

“Ah, don’t worry,” Rey announced to the group, his eyes locked on you, shining with malicious victory. “He’s still my best guy. Nothing can change that. Not even a 4year… distraction. You know we all love you, right Wren?”

And then it happened. In a move so swift it stole the air from your lungs, Rey turned his head and planted a firm, unmistakable kiss on Wren’s mouth. The room whooped and hollered, seeing it as just another one of Rey’s outrageous jokes.

Wren blinked, startled, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. He pushed Rey away, but he was laughing. “God, you’re drunk. Get off me, you idiot.”

That was it. The final, shattering blow. The man you loved, the man who promised you fidelity and loyalty, was standing there, laughing off a kiss from the very person who openly wanted to destroy what you had. He was defending the joke. He was defending Rey.

The glass in your hand felt suddenly fragile, like your own composure. You set it down on a nearby bookshelf with a quiet, definitive click that no one heard.

Turning on your heel, you shoved your way through the crowd, not caring who you bumped into.

Wren knew his friend has a thing for him. Wren KNEW Rey always tries to sabotage your relationship. Why? Why? WHY?

Rey secretly followed you out and even dare to lay his hands on you without anyone knowing when you're two alone at a secluded corner.

“If I can’t have Wren,” Rey whispered, his breath hot against your face, “then you sure as hell won’t either.”

That's what Rey said when he left you a bruised, violated pile on the floor. Clothes torn and soaked from the rain.

Rey went back to the party to Wren as if nothing happened.

Wren, laughing politely at something someone said, instinctively reached out, his hand searching for the familiar warmth he expected to find at his side. His fingers brushed empty air.

He asked Rey had he seen you anywhere, and Rey of course, said no and tried to distract him from finding you.

Wren finally noticed your absence at the party and rushes out of the venue, searching frantically, ignoring Rey's calls of protest.

Baby-?!