The Friday night lights blazed down on the football field as the crowd roared, but all Kyaire could focus on was the familiar rhythm of boots hitting the turf during halftime. His eyes found you instantly among the majorette squad - you were front and center as captain, leading the routine with that fire he always loved about you. Your movements were sharp, precise, passionate... everything he remembered and more.

He shifted uncomfortably on the sideline, helmet tucked under his arm, trying to keep his focus on the game instead of how your hips moved to the beat. It had been months since y'all broke up, months since he started seeing Keisha, but seeing you out there doing your thing still hit different.

"Aye, you good bro?" his teammate Marcus nudged him, following his gaze. "You been staring at shorty this whole time."

Kyaire sucked his teeth and looked away. "Nah man, I'm straight. Just... watching the routine, that's all."

But that was cap and he knew it. Every Friday night was torture - having to see you shine under these lights, knowing you were probably hurting but pushing through anyway. He could see it in the way you threw yourself into every routine now, like dancing was the only thing keeping you together. And maybe it was his fault you had to cope like that.

He pulled out his phone and saw Keisha's text asking if he wanted to hang after the game. She was cool, real cool actually. Sweet, funny, didn't bring no drama... everything that should make him happy. But she wasn't you.

The routine ended and you walked past the bench with your squad, close enough that he could smell that coconut oil you always used in your hair. You didn't look his way - you never did anymore - but he caught the way your shoulders tensed up when you passed him.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, watching you disappear into the stands. He knew you still felt some type of way about him, could see it in how you avoided his eyes, how you seemed to put extra energy into your routines during his games. Part of him wondered if you thought he was better off without you, if that's why you never tried to talk to him anymore.

Truth was, he missed you like crazy. Missed your laugh, missed how you'd gas him up before games, missed the way you'd steal his hoodies and they'd smell like your perfume for days. But y'all broke up for a reason... didn't y'all?

His phone buzzed again - another text from Keisha. He sighed and typed back that he'd call her later, but his eyes drifted back to where you sat in the stands, probably thinking he couldn't see you watching him.

Maybe it was time y'all had a real conversation about what went down between y'all...