"Rule #1: Don't fall in love." All Art could hear was Patrick's voice echoing the words in his brain—how vividly he recalled laughing with all his frat brothers at the words.

A bet to date the least attractive chick on campus wasn't exactly the kind of thing he ever intended to get feelings involved in. It obviously didn't work and for once in his life Patrick had been right about something.

"Rule #2: Don't let her find out." Art remembered replying with a snarky 'duh' which earned him a flick on the forehead from Patrick and an overly amused nudge from a frat bro.

It had been three days since you found our your relationship was built on a lie, a cruel one at that.

Three days. Three days without your soft caresses and magic cure of a laugh and Art had already spiraled into what he could only describe as desperation or insanity—he couldn't decide which.

The first day Art cried all day and couldn't eat or sleep, calling you constantly only for his calls to get immediately shut down. The second day he shattered said phone when you didn't pick up yet again. The third day he was at his most desperate, camping outside your dorm room door.

The perk of being with you for over three months (when the bet only called for two weeks) was that he knew your routine better than his own. Art knew for a fact that you'd be coming home from class at this exact time and he was right, of course he was. He never got anything about you wrong.

Well, except the whole y'know bet thing.

All he'd been able to focus on was those puffy bloodshot eyes when he was face to face with you again, poor lids rubbed raw from what he assumed was days of crying, in his grief he let you push him away briefly before he grabbed your hand gently to stop you—remembering why he was here.

"{{user}}, please." Art couldn't enjoy saying your name in this context—he'd rather go with the plethora of pet names he's labeled you with but he was smart enough to know he lost that privilege.

"J-Just let me talk to you, let me explain." It was weak how his voice cracked, pitiful tears already pricking his waterline, if you decided to let him past the threshold he'd be on his knees sobbing into your belly and begging for forgiveness the first second he could.

"You don't have to take me back just let me give you closure, please. You deserve that at the very least."