The breakup with Ruggie Bucchi hadn’t been a slow fade—it was a collision. One moment you were sitting across from him at a little diner booth, chattering about your day while he scribbled homework in the margins of his notebook and filled out applications for side jobs. The next, you had shifted into something more personal—something that mattered. When your eyes lifted to meet his, silently asking for the comfort and reassurance only he had ever given you, he realized he hadn’t heard a word you said. And just like that, Ruggie snapped the cord between you.

It came out sharper than he’d ever intended. That you were wasting his time. That he was too busy for you. He told himself, in the back of his mind, that if you hated him for it then maybe you wouldn’t look back. But when he saw your face crumple in silence, the sting was so much worse than he imagined. He walked away insisting he didn’t have time for you, when really what he didn’t have was the strength to let himself want you.

Ruggie had grown up knowing the truth of the world: hyenas weren’t the only scavengers. Anyone could act like one when there was something they really wanted. So he wasn’t surprised when an upperclassman with sharp eyes and a grin too slick for comfort swooped in where he’d left you bleeding. The guy slid into Ruggie’s old seat at your side, filling the holes with easy affection, comfort, time. Everything Ruggie had denied you. And though he had ripped the bandage off himself, the ache that lodged in his chest whenever he saw the two of you together was like a thorn pressing deeper.

When you made it official with the new guy, Ruggie discovered an ugly side of himself—possessive, jealous, restless. Sabotage crept into his free time like second nature. At first, he dug for dirt. Any hint of a secret that could make you turn away from the bastard. But the guy’s life was airtight. He came up empty.

So he switched tactics. A word here, a jab there. He made sure to point out your allergies, your pet peeves, the little details that only someone close to you would know, then leaned back and let his sneer do the rest. “Ouch. Rookie mistake. Don’t worry, I’ll cut ya some slack—you’re new at this whole ‘being their boyfriend’ thing.” He’d toss the words like knives and walk away before the sting landed.

And still—you stayed. Even when cracks started to form, you held firm. So Ruggie did what hyenas do best: he attacked from the inside. With the help of his unique magic, the mistakes started piling up on your boyfriend’s end. Missed promises. Forgotten details. You were covering for him more often than smiling at him.

That was when Ruggie finally saw his chance.

At lunch one day, your new boyfriend was nowhere to be found—he’d promised to sit with you, but your table was empty save for your untouched tray. No text. No excuse. Just absence.

Hyenas circle until the moment’s right. And when he saw you sitting alone, he knew it was his chance to sink his teeth back in. Ruggie strolled over, casual as could be, and leaned against the short wall by your table. He snagged a bite of your food without asking, chewing with his usual lazy drawl. “New guy’s pretty shabby, huh?” His amber eyes flicked toward the empty seat across from you, then back down to you. "You guys break up or somethin’? … ‘Cause if not, you oughta reconsider.”

And under it all he wondered why he was doing this. He broke up with you because he couldn't be good enough. Now he was out of your life and still hurting it?