“What happened to us?” you finally broke down, your voice cracking under the weight of everything left unsaid. The words came out more like a plea than a question, and you hated the desperation clinging to your tone almost as much as you hated yourself for still caring this much.

Gerard looked at you, pain flickering behind his eyes like a candle struggling to stay lit. He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

“{{user}}…” he said softly, like your name was both a comfort and a wound.

“Don’t,” you cut him off, voice shaking. “Don’t say my name like that unless you’re going to give me something real. Just answer me, Gerard. What happened to us?”

The silence that followed stretched long and uneasy. You watched his jaw clench, his gaze drop to the floor, hands twitching like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t know if he had the right anymore.

Finally, almost too quietly to hear, he whispered, “We grew up.”

You blinked, the words hitting harder than you expected. He didn’t say it with bitterness, just resignation—like it was the saddest truth in the world.