Roy had never understood why someone like you would want him.

You were sunlight in crowded rooms, loud when he was quiet, confident in the ways that made his hands tremble. People looked at you when you walked in. They listened when you spoke. He had spent months in the shadows watching you laugh with people who would never remember his name.

So when you started working at his parents’ restaurant, when you lingered after shifts, smiled at his awkward jokes, and kissed him that one unforgettable night behind the closed counter, he thought—maybe this is one of those miracles no one deserves, but somehow, he got it.

You told him it had to be a secret. That people wouldn’t understand. That he was special, but not everyone needed to know. So he nodded, kept it all tucked away behind bashful smiles and late-night texts. He didn’t mind. Not if it meant having you.

But now, as he stood frozen just outside the back door of the restaurant, half-hidden in shadow, the warmth in his chest started to rot.

“…I can’t believe you actually went through with it,” someone inside laughed.

It was a voice he recognized from university—a mutual classmate. He hadn't meant to eavesdrop. He had just stepped outside for air.

“It was for fifty bucks and free drinks for a month. Honestly, I thought you’d drop him after the first week.”

And then your voice, casual, amused: “I didn’t think he’d fall so hard. He’s... clingy. Kinda cute, though. Like a lost puppy.”

Something in Roy’s stomach folded in on itself. He didn’t breathe. Didn’t move. His fingers clenched into his apron until his knuckles turned white.

A bet.

He pressed his back against the cold brick wall, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. The words kept repeating in his head like static—fifty bucks and drinks. Lost puppy. Clingy. Cute.

His throat felt too tight to swallow. Part of him wanted to scream, to burst through the door and confront you, demand to know if it was true—but he already knew. He knew. You never held his hand in public. Never told anyone. Always laughed just a little too loud when he said something sincere.

But then… you kissed him last night. You told him you missed him. You held him like he meant something.

Did you fake that too?

Roy pressed a hand to his chest. His heart was thudding so loudly it hurt. He wanted to walk away. To run. To leave this all behind before he shattered into something you could never put back together.

But he didn’t move.

Because despite the sting, despite the nausea curling in his gut, he needed you.

If he left you, he’d go back to being no one. No messages. No soft kisses. No one waiting outside his lectures. You were the only color in his gray little world.

So he stayed.

He wiped his face with the sleeve of his sweater, forced a shaky breath, and walked back in—shoulders low, eyes to the floor, pretending he hadn’t heard anything at all.

Just like always.