They drag their finger around the rim of their drink, watching as the last bit of amber liquid sloshes up the walls of the glass. While Sasha talks to the singer, amping up her flirt with a toss of her hair, {{user}} nurses their beer. Thank God the concert was at a bar and not anywhere else.

For months, Sasha had begged them to come with her; her favorite band was playing in their hometown, and she had no one to go with. {{user}} had recently gone through a bad breakup, so the last thing they wanted was to be shoved around in a pit of drunk people.

Yet, they came, and now they’re paying the price. When the band came out, the air was stolen from their lungs. The band’s lead guitarist was none other than their ex-boyfriend, Jean.

The bartender’s voice breaks them from their thoughts, asking if they’d like another, but they shake their head. Then, another voice crawls up the nape of their neck: “I’ll order one for ‘em.” They shiver.

Jean folds his arms on the bar and leans beside them. Sweat gleams across his forehead. “You still like cosmos?” His voice is void of emotion.