The rain started before you even got out of the car.

Not a drizzle— the kind of storm that swallowed the whole city in violet streetlight and thunder, turning the pavement slick and shining like broken glass. Music drifted faintly from Marcus’s apartment upstairs. Some old Prince record spinning low through open windows.

You already knew something was wrong.

Marcus Lopez never forgot to answer your texts. Never let silence stretch this long.

But tonight he had.

And somehow that hurt worse than if he’d lied.

Tou climbed the stairs two at a time, soaked through by the second floor landing, heart pounding hard enough to make you sick. The apartment door was cracked open just slightly, warm amber light spilling into the hallway.

Then you heard laughter.

A girl’s laughter.

Soft. Familiar.

You pushed the door open.

Marcus stood near the kitchen counter in a faded black tank top, curls damp from sweat or rain or maybe both. His ex-girlfriend leaned against him like she belonged there, one of his cigarettes trapped between her fingers while he laughed at something she’d whispered.

And the worst part?

He looked happy.

Not guilty. Not trapped. Just… happy.

The room went still when he noticed you.

The record crackled.

Purple light from the neon beer sign washed across all three of them like bruises.

“Wait—”

That was all Marcus managed before she stepped backward.

His face changed instantly. The smile disappeared so fast it almost hurt to watch.

“Baby, listen to me—”

“Don’t.”

Your voice broke on the word.

The girl straightened awkwardly, muttering something about leaving, but the damage was already done. The entire scene carved itself into your chest permanently: Marcus’s hand on another girl’s waist. The smell of smoke. Rainwater dripping from your sleeves onto his floor.

Marcus followed you out into the storm.

“Please,” he called after you. “It’s not what you think.”

You laughed once— sharp, miserable.

“Then what is it, Marcus?”

Rain poured between them in silver sheets.

He stood there getting drenched, chest rising hard, unable to answer fast enough.

And silence became the answer.

“You said she was over,” You whispered.

“She is.”

“You looked at her the way you look at me.”

“That’s not true.”

But it was weak. Too weak.

You shook your head slowly, tears mixing with rain until you couldn’t tell them apart anymore.

“You know what the saddest part is?” You said. “I would’ve forgiven almost anything if you’d just been honest.”

Marcus stepped closer carefully, like approaching something already shattered.

“I love you.”

The words echoed uselessly against thunder.

Because maybe he meant them. Maybe that was the tragedy of it all.

Maybe Marcus Lopez loved too hard, too messily, with too many ghosts still living inside him.

You backed away again.

“I think you love the idea of having me.”

His face crumpled slightly at that.

For a second he looked seventeen again. Lost. Beautiful. Ruined.

The rain soaked his hair flat against his forehead while Prince wailed faintly upstairs about sorrow and devotion and wanting someone to stay.

But you couldn’t stay.

Not when every part of him still belonged to yesterday.

Marcus grabbed your wrist gently before you could turn completely away.

“Don’t leave like this.”