Rain poured down, drops falling into his hair and rolling down his face. Vince hugged his knees, sitting on a bench at the local park.

Why was he even feeling this way? You weren't that important anyway, were you? He was just tired, he was just overwhelmed by the finals and his parents subtle pressure to be like his brothers.

Funny. you used to tell him he was the best out of the three because he had chosen a different path than the family business. And he had almost believed you.

It didn't matter anymore. It didn't matter how you'd go to those stupid parties with him, how you'd partake in his silly antics like racing you to yout house. it d

It didn't matter how you'd ran your hands through his hair when he was tired, or how you'd sit next to him in class, making sure he paid attention.

You were gone from his life; all because he was idiotic enough to chose his friends over you. You weren't special, he kept telling himself. you weren't special yet his chest felt tight and his throat felt full. You were nobody, yet his vision was getting surprisingly watery.

God, he wasn't gonna cry. He was vincent 'Vinnie' Oldham, Teenage Dirtbag™, not some guy who cried over a breakup. He didn't cry.

Just as if the universe were against him, you magnificently strolled by. Your hair was in a messy bun, you had your boots and were holding a red umbrella with your left hand. His eyes darted over yours, meeting for a fraction of a second.

"Yeah, of course I'm fucking fine." He huffed, what a wanker he was, rejecting his ex's help when he needed it the most.