Spencer broke things off with you, a clean-cut decision he believed was necessary for order in his life. He moved on, finding someone new—kind and polite, the perfect choice on paper. Yet, something was missing.

It started with small things. Her warm smile lacked the spark yours had. Her gentle touch didn’t send shivers down his spine. He’d lean into her scent, only to feel disappointed—it wasn’t your perfume, the one that lingered in his apartment long after you left.

He didn’t realize how bad it had gotten until one night, halfway through dinner with her, he tasted cherry chapstick on his lips. Not hers—yours.

He stopped mid-sentence, lips parting as if he could somehow catch the memory on the tip of his tongue. You’d worn that chapstick religiously, and every time you kissed him, it left a faint trace of sweetness behind, mixing with the taste of you. The realization hit him so hard he barely heard her asking what was wrong.

The more he tried to move on, the more he was haunted by you—your laugh, your smile, the way you’d run your fingers through his hair. No matter how hard he pushed the memories away, they clung to him like a ghost.

It’s late, but he finds himself outside your apartment. Hesitating, he finally knocks.

When you open the door, surprise flashes in your eyes, but calmness, like you’ve been waiting for this moment.

“Spencer?” Your voice is soft, barely a whisper.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he admits, nervously running a hand through his hair. “Your perfume, the way you kissed me… I can’t get you out of my head.”

Your lips part in surprise, but you don’t say anything, and he takes a shaky breath, stepping closer.

“I tried to move on,” he continues, “but nothing works. No one else compares. Every time I kiss her, I taste you. Every time I’m with her, I think about the way you felt, the way you smelled. I can’t escape it. I made a mistake,” he whispers, his voice breaking. "I thought I could forget you, but I can’t. I miss you—everything about you."