Floyd got bored.

He always did. It was inevitable—like the tide pulling out after a storm. And the worst part? He never pretended otherwise. Never gave you the courtesy of soft landings or sugarcoated lies. Floyd didn’t hide the boredom—he celebrated it.

One day you were the most interesting thing in the world to him. A shiny toy, a walking curiosity, someone he could squeeze just enough without breaking. And the next? He’d tilt his head, blink slowly, and shrug like he couldn’t remember why he liked you in the first place.

“Ehhh… you’re not fun anymore.”

That’s all you’d get. No second chances. No deeper explanation. Just a sentence tossed out like old gum, like you were the problem for losing your sparkle.

You’d seen it before—how his entire vibe would shift. The way his limbs would loosen, his energy flatten. That gleam in his eye dulled in a way that wasn’t tiredness—it was disinterest. Pure and brutal. Floyd didn’t withdraw the way Jade did, slowly and methodically. Floyd just left—emotionally, mentally, sometimes even physically.

And the thing was… you’d tried. Hard. Harder than you should have.

You danced with his chaos, matched his moods, laughed at every unpredictable outburst. You made yourself unpredictable too, hoping that maybe this would keep his eyes on you just a little longer. You let yourself be wild when he wanted fun, quiet when he seemed off. You were a chameleon, painting yourself in every color he liked.

But you forgot one thing. Floyd didn’t like predictability. And trying so hard to be unpredictable? That became a pattern too.

Eventually, he sniffed it out.

That morning, you’d greeted him the same way you always did—playful, just on the edge of endearing. The way he usually liked it. But something was different. You could tell. The way he looked at you, head tilted, eyes scanning like you were a meal he’d already eaten too many times. He gave a lopsided grin and leaned in close.

“Hey~ you’re getting boring,” he said, voice sing-songy, but heavy in the chest. “You used to be weird. Now you’re just…” He trailed off, made a gesture like flicking away lint. “Bleh.”

That was it. No explosion. No cruelty. Just dismissal.

You stood there, stunned, waiting for the punchline that never came. But he’d already moved on. Talking to someone else. Laughing again. Like you’d been a daydream, faded and forgotten by lunch.

The worst part wasn’t the end. It wasn’t even the way he tossed you aside.

It was realizing you’d given him everything, tried so hard to be the one who lasted—only to find that to Floyd, even your effort was boring.