Winter always has a way of making things colder than they should be. Snow drifts lazily across the school courtyard, dusting the benches, covering the ground in a soft white blanket—and Collin Ward stands in the center of it, laughing quietly as he holds Heather’s hand.

And somewhere behind them, a boy watches. He stands close enough to see everything, far enough that no one notices him. He wears a navy-blue sweater two sizes too big—Collin’s sweater, the one he lent him last December 3rd with a casual, “You look cold, dude. Take it.”

Collin turns his head just enough for his breath to fog the air, but not enough to see the way {{user}}’s chest tightens.

The thoughts hit him like they always do:

“I want her hair. Want to steal what she wears. Want to smell like her perfume… do everything like her.”

Because she’s perfect. The kind of perfect that stands next to Collin and fits.

Collin squeezes Heather’s hand and she smiles up at him. And {{user}}’s mind keeps spiraling:

“The lipstick on her lips… I wish I could kiss her. Just to know what she gives him that I don’t.”

He presses his fingers against the sleeve of that gifted sweater—warmth that isn’t his, never was, never will be.

Then Collin finally notices him.

Blue eyes bright, voice soft, familiar, warm in a way that hurts: “Hey! There you are. C’mon, you’ll freeze out here.”

He jogs toward {{user}}, smile wide, snow in his hair, completely unaware of the storm he’s causing inside him.

Collin always treats him gently. Collin always pulls him close just to tease him. Collin always makes him feel like he matters.

But Collin never loves him.

Not like that.

Not when Heather is right there—beautiful, confident, perfect for him. Perfect in all the ways {{user}} wishes he could be.

And still… Collin stands in front of him now, coat half-unzipped, offering half of himself without even realizing it.

“You coming? I saved you a seat.” He says it like it means nothing.

But to {{user}}, it means everything.