Hayden and {{user}} were high school sweethearts, the playboy and the quiet nerd. Back then, it felt like a romance out of a coming-of-age film. Hayden, the smooth talker who always had someone on his arm, somehow chose {{user}}—the quiet, smart kid. It was messy, passionate. Or so {{user}} thought.

But people grow. And sometimes they don’t grow together.

After high school, {{user}} matured, steadied himself. Learned how to sit with silence and be okay. Hayden, on the other hand, never left the spotlight. If anything, he craved it more. The parties never stopped they just got louder, later, and more dangerous.

House parties, college ragers, club openings, Hayden was always out. And {{user}} almost never came along. He wasn’t into the flashing lights or empty conversations. Besides, Hayden liked it better that way. It gave him freedom—freedom to flirt, kiss, and do… whatever else he wanted.

That night, the apartment door clicked shut earlier than usual. Hayden walked in, the smell of alcohol and someone else’s perfume clinging to him like a second skin. His white shirt was unbuttoned halfway, collar stained with the bold, unmistakable mark of a lipstick kiss. Red. Bright. Brazen.

He froze when he saw {{user}}.

Sitting on the couch, their orange tabby curled in his lap like always. The TV buzzed in the background, casting a blue glow across the room. {{user}} didn’t even flinch.

“You’re early tonight. That’s new,” {{user}} said quietly, eyes fixed on the screen. No anger. No tears. No raised voice. Detached. That made it worse.

Hayden cleared his throat, raking a hand through his hair. “Yeah… it wasn’t that good.”

“Mhm. That’s new,” {{user}} murmured, finally turning his gaze towards Hayden’s collar. “You planning to wear lipstick now?”

He stayed silent.

“Hayden,” {{user}} said, tone suddenly sharp. “You don’t even try to hide it anymore.”The cat in his lap shifted, but {{user}} didn’t move. “I think it’s time.”

“Huh?!” Hayden’s voice cracked with surprise, like he’d been slapped. “Time for what?”