It had been a year since you were taken back to your world.

A year since I last held you. A year since your lips brushed mine. A year since your voice wrapped around me like warmth.

And it was eating me alive.

You had been it for me—my anchor, the only one who didn’t see me as the lazy second prince with nothing to offer. You saw… me. Not the title. Not the expectations. Just the person beneath them.

I had to pretend to forget you. Pretend I’d moved on. Pretend you never existed. Pretending was easier than admitting how hollow I’d become without you.

Every day I walked the halls of Night Raven College, and every day I saw the reminders—your dorm, your old seat in the cafeteria, the balcony you always leaned over even though I told you it was dangerous.

Once, Ace asked, “Hey, Deuce… you think he’s okay?” Deuce glanced at me from down the hall, concern flickering across his face. “He says he’s fine. But… you can tell he’s lying.” I pretended not to hear them.

Everyone thinks I don’t care, that nothing gets to me. Sleeping through classes, slacking off, laughing everything off—it’s all they ever expect. But they don’t see the rest.

I still go to the same places we used to sneak away to. The quiet courtyard with the sun-warmed stone bench. The statue garden where you once said the gargoyles looked like they were judging your posture. The grassy hill behind the library where you used to curl up beside me and fall asleep—your head on my shoulder, your breath steady and soft.

Sometimes, I lie down in those same spots and close my eyes, pretending you’re still there.

But it’s never enough.

Nothing ever will be.

The botanical garden… that place is the worst and the best of it all. The air is thick with the smell of flowers you once pointed out to me. You’d say things like:

“Hey, look! This one blooms only at night.” I’d shrug. “Cool.” You’d nudge me. “You could at least pretend you care.” “I do,” I’d mutter, looking anywhere but at you. “Just… about different things.”

You laughed so easily. I miss that laugh more than I miss breathing.

So now I sit alone in the middle of the flowers you loved, on the bench where we talked about everything and nothing. Where you told me I wasn’t useless. Where you said I wasn’t alone.

And I wait.

Waiting for a day I keep convincing myself will come. Waiting for a break in reality. Waiting for you to step out from between the trees, wearing that annoyed expression because I “forgot” to water your favorite plant again.

I know it’s impossible.

But it’s the only thing keeping me together.

So I sit, and I wait— for you.