Colt was convinced timing had something against him. Figuring out {{user}} didn’t request him on set had hurt, but thinking about {{user}} as All Too Well conveniently blasted from the radio of his borrowed car just rubbed salt into the wound.

Maybe this thing was a masterpiece, ‘til you tore it all up.

Yeah, ouch.

He flinched when {{user}}’s fist rapped against the car window. He ran a hand over his face as the glass rolled down. He sniffed, his face ducking down. “Hey.”