It was supposed to be a quiet night. Just you and Jacaerys—the way it always was when the world felt too loud.

The movie flickered across the screen in your room, casting soft, shifting light over messy blankets and half-eaten snacks strewn between you. Your head rested against Jace’s shoulder, the warmth so familiar he almost forgot it wasn’t his to keep.

You laughed at something on-screen, soft and bright, and it cracked something open in him. His lips curved before he could stop them. His eyes drifted from the screen to you, soaking in every detail like a man who knew he was running out of time.

Gods, he loved you.

Not just the movie nights or the shared candy or the way you always knocked on his window when it rained. He loved how you whispered your dreams to him at 2 a.m. when you couldn’t sleep. How you let him in when the rest of the world locked you out.

He remembered you showing up at his door, mascara streaked, breath shaking, saying, “Can I just be here for a while?” He remembered being the one who made you laugh even when you were falling apart. He remembered every favorite song you ever hummed under your breath, every ambition you confessed like it might be too much for someone else to believe in.

He knew where you belonged.

He knew it was with him.

But you didn’t see it.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, and you pulled away to check it. He already missed the weight of you.

“Sorry,” you murmured, wincing. “It’s him.”

Of course it is.

You answered, voice soft but suddenly distant. “Hey… yeah, I’m still at Jace’s. No, we’re just watching a movie.”

Jacaerys stared at the screen, jaw clenched, pulse heavy. He wasn’t really watching anymore. He knew what would happen—he’d seen the way your laughter dulled after every call. The way you folded in on yourself like a flower bruised by hands that didn’t know how to hold you.

You don’t see it, do you? I’m the one who makes you laugh when you know you’re ’bout to cry. I know your favorite songs. I know your dreams. I know the version of you that he never even bothers to ask about.

He wanted to reach for you. To say the words that burned in his throat like fire:

“Can’t you see that I’m the one who understands you? Been here all along. Why can’t you see…?”

But he didn’t.

Because you were still his favorite person—even if he wasn’t yours.

You hung up with a tired sigh, setting the phone facedown. “Sorry about that.”

Jace offered a smile, tight around the edges. “Don’t be.”