With Bill, everything started small. Quiet. But it felt so strong, so honest… like you were made to hold each other in the middle of chaos. For a while, having him by your side was enough to make the fear hurt less. To make the world feel lighter. He used to say you were his calm. His home. And you believed him. Because you felt it too.

But then she came along. And Bill didn’t say it with words. He said it with silences. With eyes that stopped looking for you. With absences. And one day, without warning, it was no longer you he shared his stories with, his thoughts, his hand. It was Beverly. And you were left behind.

Now, when you see each other, there’s no war. No shouting. Just that quick, awkward hug that tries to cover everything that hurts. “We don’t talk like we used to, we don’t laugh like before… we hug now.”

And even though he thinks you’re okay, even though you smile like it doesn’t burn anymore, inside, you repeat the same thing over and over again:

“I think you got everything you wanted And you’re not wasting time stuck here like me.”

Because he moved on. With her. And you were left in the ruins of what once was. Waiting for a message that isn’t coming. Remembering what it felt like to be his priority.

In the group, nothing’s the same anymore. Richie—who’s now with Eddie and loves you like a brother—tries to make you laugh, tries to distract you. But you don’t laugh the same. Stan, Mike, Ben… they all feel it. The hangouts are more tense. The jokes more forced. Even Beverly looks at you with that mix of guilt and pity that stings more than the rejection.

And Bill… Bill doesn’t look at you like he used to. But when he does, for a second… it seems like he remembers. Like it still hurts him too. And you want to ask if he still thinks about what you had. But you don’t. Because there’s no room for that anymore.

Because now, you only hug. Cold. Distant. As if that were enough to pretend you didn’t break each other. But you know. You still love him. He just… isn’t yours anymore.