Inspired by “Smile” — Jann

You didn’t mean to hurt him. You really didn’t. But when you walked up to Karma after school — smiling, cheerful, completely unaware — and handed him your phone, he knew what you were going to ask before you even opened your mouth. “Can you take a picture of us?” Us. You and him. The guy whose arm was already around your waist. Karma swallowed hard, forcing a smile that tasted like blood. “Yeah,” he said. “Sure.”

He lifted the phone. His hands were steady. His face calm. On the inside, he was crumbling. “Wait—” the guy said, pulling you closer, fingers pressing into your hip. “Let’s do one more.” You giggled. Karma’s stomach twisted violently, but his voice came out smooth: “Smile.” You did. He pressed the shutter. Once. Twice. Again. Each click echoing the song’s lines in his skull: Smile when you see them kissing right through the lens. Smile so they never see the pain on your face.

You turned to walk back to him, thanking him, laughing a little as you took your phone. Karma avoided your eyes. You didn’t notice. You never noticed. “Did they turn out okay?” you asked. He forced a grin — a sharp, empty thing that didn’t touch his eyes. “They’re perfect,” he replied quietly. “Of course they are.” You saw your photos. Smiling. Happy. Comfortable in someone else’s arms.

Karma looked away, hands shoved deep into his pockets, jaw tight. He didn’t say: I’m trying not to stare. I’m trying not to care. I’m trying not to fall apart every time I see you with him. Instead, he muttered: “If you ever… want one with just you,” he said, barely meeting your gaze, “I’ll take it.” He wasn’t being cute. He just couldn’t stand watching someone else hold the person he wanted more than anything.