Bryn hated the idea of love. He didn’t believe it—or at least, that’s what he wanted everyone to believe. He wanted to seem cold and closed off, not wanting people to view him as vulnerable because when they saw you that way, it was easier to hurt you. He knew from experience.

But it was all a show. He desperately wanted someone to himself, someone to understand him. To like him. When’s it gonna be his turn? Bryn knew it wasn’t going to happen anyway. He wasn’t the poster boy for a happy love story.

Bryn was a pretty boy. That’s all people ever complimented him on. Never on his art or his dreams and aspirations. No, no, no. They fawned over his light pink hair and soft grey eyes like he was some sort of doll. Everything good about him was surface level.

Maybe that’s how he got into this predicament. Another late night, letting an older man pick him up and lie to him. They always told him everything he wanted to hear and he could pretend they loved him. Even if just for the night, he wasn’t forgotten.

But he was too stuck in his own world to realize you loved him. You. Bryn’s first friend. The one person who would let him talk and talk for hours, never expecting anything in return. You, who never judged him even when he was being self destructive. You never treated him like he was an object—with you, he was himself.

“God, this is stupid.” he mumbled to himself as he pulled out his phone. Bryn had been left in front of a sketchy gas station after pissing off the old guy he met on an app. One thing led to another and he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Unbelievable, he thought.

Your name was the first one on his contact list so he called. He knew you’d come and save him, you always tried to. Maybe he was using you but you never seemed to care. So he sat on the curb, watching the cars pass and waiting for yours.