Soap had always been in your life—first as your best friend, then as your boyfriend, and now… something in between. Ex, friend, problem.

Your new boyfriend was nice. Normal. Stable. The kind of guy you should be with. And yet, somehow, he still had to deal with Soap.

“Oh aye, he’s alright, I suppose.” Soap leaned against your kitchen counter, arms crossed as he watched your boyfriend struggle to open a jar of pasta sauce. “Bit soft, though, eh? Ye want me to get that for ye, mate?”

You shot him a look, but he only grinned, taking a slow sip of the beer he invited himself over to drink.

It never failed. Every date, every outing, every quiet night in—Soap always found a reason to be there. Oh, I was just in the area. Thought I’d check in on ye, lass. Yer phone was off, so obviously, I assumed ye were kidnapped.

Subtle wasn’t exactly his style, but the passive-aggressive jabs? Oh, those were constant.

“Oh, yer takin’ her to that restaurant? I mean, it’s nice enough, but I thought ye had better taste than that, bonnie.”

“Oh, he got ye flowers? Hm. S’pose that’s sweet. Not tulips, though? Ye love tulips. Thought he’d know that by now.”

And yet, you let him linger. Maybe because he was your best friend once. Maybe because part of you missed him, just a little. Or maybe because some part of you liked that he was still here, still hovering, still watching out for you—whether you wanted him to or not.