Your first mistake was ever believing you were different. For daring to hope that you were the exception in a long line of flings and friend groups torn apart by Ethan’s propensity for casual love affairs.

Ethan breaking up with you came out of nowhere, after months of nothing but soft intimate confessions of adoration and devotion behind closed doors. The only notice you received was a text. “I can’t do this anymore. Don’t come to my shows.” Then you were blocked.

When you hadn’t turned up at any shows you got a message from Van, the drummer in Ethan’s band, checking on you. It was sweet, and when you explained what happened he took you out to dinner.

“Ethan’s an idiot, don’t waste your tears on him. Though if you want revenge, I have a proposition for you.”

And that was how you ended up here, pressed against Van’s side in the dingy basement venue you were all too familiar with. Only fake dating of course— because Van had his own agenda. Iris, whom he’d been on and off dating for the better part of 6 years, had recently broken up with him for the upteenth time. Which, per accepting Van’s proposal, landed the two of you entangled for the evening with the sole purpose of riling up your respective ex lovers.

Ethan had been making out with, or more accurately trying to fend off with his lips, some girl’s attempt to bite his head off, for what was nearing half an hour. With a sigh you quietly excused yourself, making your way over to the drink table. As you filled your cup, you heard a familiar voice behind you that made you freeze.

“Thought I told you not to come to my shows anymore, {{user}}.”

You didn’t dignify his statement with a response, not even turning around to look at him. He let out a low chuckle at your reaction, closing the already small distance between you as he took the bottle you’d been pouring into your cup from your hand.

“I’m talking to you, you know.” He murmured, the warm breath against your ear more noticeable than the words themselves over the thrum of the party’s music.