"Was it casual?"

Rodrick blinked. "What?"

You. Standing there, arms crossed, voice steady—but your eyes? Your eyes said everything.

"Us," you clarified, though it tasted bitter on your tongue. "Was it just… a casual thing for you?"

Rodrick scoffed, rolling his eyes like the question was ridiculous. Like it didn’t make his stomach twist into knots. "Dude, you’re acting like we—" He stopped himself, jaw tightening. "I mean, you knew what this was."

Ouch.

He was right, in a way. There were never any labels, no promises. Just late-night drives with the windows down, just him and you laying on the top of his van listening to MCR. Just his arm slung around your shoulder like it belonged there. Just him teaching you how to play guitar. Just texts that always started with “yo” but ended with “talk to me when you get home safe.” Just… nothing. And yet, to you, it had been everything.