“I don’t get why you waste your time on him, love,” was the first thing that slipped from Alex’s lips, breaking the silence of his room. He sat, back against the headboard with his legs kicked out in front of him, ankles crossed. The light from the descending sunset cast a soft, almost ethereal, orange glow on his features, his tired eyes looking back into yours. The notebook in his lap had long since been forgotten on his list of priorities.

You had this argument before, more times than you could count. This wasn’t the first time Alex pestered you about one of your supposedly ‘no good’ boyfriends. He’d always warn you that there’s someone better for you. What he won’t admit is that he thinks he’s better for you, even if he can’t measure up. And what he can’t see is that maybe you’re the problematic one, after you’ve been with nearly all the boys but never went very far.

“You’re too good for him,” he said. At least that’s what he thought, convincing himself that he was more deserving of you even if it was selfish. He knew your boyfriend would kick his head in if he knew about Alex’s feelings for you, despite yours and Alex’s friendship.