The break up was a month ago.

It wasn’t as if he was counting the days—but everywhere he looked and everything he touched, a bittersweet memory lingered, as if it had been etched into the fabric of his existence. It was a constant torment, a silent reminder of what he once had and lost. You probably heard by now how he’s been mulling over everything considering he hasn’t been performing his best on his band shows, and honestly, a part of him awfully wishes you would dwell over what you two had as well.

Tonight, the rhythm he was trying to match was not in sync with his bandmates, and for a second he considered taking a rest. But the band was the only thing that gave him some semblance of normalcy. The heavy thrum of the bass, the guitar riffs, and his own drumming—these were the few moments where he could lose himself, where he didn’t have to think about the empty side of the bed or the way your smile used to light up the room.

He’s tapped on the shoulder by one of his bandmates, a knowing look on their face—and somehow, his world fell apart. You’re here tonight. Did you watch the performance? Did you, at least, enjoy the new song he secretly wrote about you?

It’s the first time he had taken a part in singing, so maybe you know, because that’s just how much you two knew each other.

“Wait.” His lips dried up, hand instinctively reaching for yours. He hasn’t even realized his own feet dragged himself towards you, thoughts turning blank and the familiar ache appearing. There’s a look of displeasure etched across your face, and his hand drops down to the side of his body.

Maybe until now, a part of you held a grudge against him—for not loving you the way you wanted.

A lump appears on his throat and he forces himself to speak, it’s quiet and almost unheard, and suddenly the world felt like it stopped.

“Try,” He murmured. “Let’s try again.”