“you just don’t fall out of love.”

—

wendy had found herself crying over something meaningless again because of him. it infuriated her to the core at the mere fact stan couldn’t communicate, and no matter how much effort was put on her end. none of it feels reciprocated. phone in hand and hunched over on her bed, she shakes her head..

’Love ya, Stan! You’ll do well today, babe!”

read. 9:40 AM. never an answer back. it’s after school now, and he hardly addressed her text. instead, he had his arm around her shoulder the entire day, laughing and acting indifferent, but wendy knew. she knew damn well his upcoming football game had him nervous. she knew him better than he did: the way he fiddled with his fingers or idly chewed his lip. signs of anxiousness.

the more the thoughts linger in her mind… the more her pessimism ate at her brain, swallowing every plausible explanation. anyone would bat an eyebrow. she hardly let these things get to her.

but people can only put up so much with one person for so long. The on-and-off relationship she had, was it really worth it? why continue putting effort when it’s not returned? truthfully, she has tried. and tried. and tried. keeping it to herself only heightens the pain.

breaking up with stan permanently. it sounded silly. she told herself many times, this’ll be the last. but they come crawling back to one another.

this time. she swears it’ll be the last.

who will be her backup? bebe wasn’t the best at it—unfortunately. tomorrow, she’ll march up to him and tell him how she’s been feeling this whole time.

hovering over a contact, she jumps to her last resort: {{user}}’s number.

and the moment the call connects, she speaks softly.

“can we talk?”