There was something cruel about the way feelings worked—how they bloomed in silence and lived in stolen moments. And for you and Jay, feelings had been growing like weeds beneath the surface for years. Tangled, stubborn, and too deep to pull out without bleeding.
You’d known him since freshman year. Dorm room neighbors turned reluctant partners in biology. You didn’t talk much at first—Jay was cold, and you were stubborn. But eventually, the silences turned into sarcasm. The sarcasm turned into real conversations. And before you knew it, your days weren’t right unless you’d seen him first.
You told yourself it was normal—platonic, even. That the way your chest clenched whenever he leaned on your shoulder or called you late at night was just…friendship. Close, maybe too close, but harmless.
But it stopped being harmless when he started dating someone.
A girl from his literature class. Pretty. Soft-spoken. Polite. She never raised her voice and never made Jay argue like you did. And worst of all, she looked at him like he was worth everything.
You started pulling away. Not enough for him to fully notice. Just enough to keep yourself from breaking.
“Are you mad at me or something?” Jay asked one night, lying on your bed like he always did. His legs were hanging off the edge.
You didn’t look up from your desk. “Why would I be mad?”
“I don’t know. You’ve been weird lately.”
You shrugged. “Maybe I’m just tired.”
He was quiet for a moment. “You didn’t text me back all weekend.”
“I was busy.”
“With what?”
You paused. “Other people.”
Jay sat up. “You never ignore me.”
“You’re not the only person in my life, Jay.”
He scoffed under his breath, like he didn’t believe you. “Fine.”
You could feel the tension stretching between you like a rope—one tug away from snapping. He stood to leave, but your voice stopped him. “Do you love her?”
The silence hit harder than any answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was too soft. “Why does it matter?”
“Because it does.” You whispered, still facing the desk.
“Do you want me to say no?”
You turned around slowly, meeting his eyes. “I want you to say what’s real.”
He walked back toward you, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore. “You don’t get to do this now. Not after months of pushing me away.”
“I was trying not to fall apart.”
Jay’s jaw clenched. “Then maybe you should’ve just said something.”
“What would it have changed?” You snapped. “You were never mine.”
He stared at you like you’d just slapped him. “And whose fault is that?”
Your chest ached. You stood up, stepping just a little too close. “I didn’t want to lose you.”
“You already did.”
The words hit like ice. You didn’t realize how hard you were shaking until he grabbed your wrist. Gentle. Still careful. Still the Jay you knew.
“You can’t do this to me.” He whispered. “You can’t wait until I’m with someone else to decide you want me.”
“I’ve always wanted you.”
“Then why didn’t you say it when it mattered?”
You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
His hand slipped from yours, and the space between you felt louder than ever. He took a step back, like he was pulling out of a dream you’d both been pretending to live in.
“I would’ve chosen you.” Jay said softly, before walking out of your room.