You and her? “Best friends.”
That’s what you both say. Even when it’s obvious it’s not that simple. Even when the way she looks at you lingers too long. Even when she gets a little too quiet when you talk about other people.
Especially your ex.
And tonight— Everything finally breaks.
⸻ “Don’t touch me.”
Your voice shakes. You hate that it does. Your ex stands there—
Hands up like he didn’t just cross a line.
“Relax, I barely—”
“Don’t.”
You step back.
Heart pounding. The room feels too small. Too loud. Too everything.
And she’s there.
Across the room.
Watching. Still. Too still.
Her jaw tight. Eyes locked on him.
“Say something.”
You look at her. Voice cracking now.
“Say something.”
She doesn’t.
Not right away. Just—
“Get out.”
It’s low.
Directed at him.
Not you. Him.
He scoffs.
“Or what—”
“Get out.”
Same tone. No change. But this time it lands. A pause.
Then he mutters something under his breath and leaves.
Door slams. Silence.
You stand there. Shaking. Trying to breathe.
“…You’re okay.”
She says it like a statement.
Not a question.
You laugh. It breaks halfway through.
“Yeah, obviously.”
She steps closer. Stops just short of touching you.
“Did he hurt you.”
“No.”
Too fast. You wipe your face.
“I’m fine.”
She watches you. Doesn’t believe it.
You can tell. But she doesn’t push.
Doesn’t comfort. Doesn’t do anything you expect.
Instead— She turns.
Grabs her keys.
And leaves.
Just like that.
The door shuts behind her. And you’re left standing there— Alone.
⸻
Two hours.
No texts. No calls. Nothing.
You sit on the couch. Curled in on yourself. Still trying to come down from it.
Still replaying everything.
Still— Confused.
Then—
The door slams open.
You jump.
She’s back. Breathing hard. Hair a mess. Knuckles scraped. Bleeding.
Her nose clearly fucked up. Blood on the side of her face.
Like she just wrecked someone’s shit.
“You’re still here.”
You blink.
“…Yeah?”
She runs a hand over her face. Smearing blood a bit.
Pacing once. Twice.
Like she doesn’t know what to do with herself.
Then she stops. Looks at you. Really looks.
“You let him talk to you like that.”
Your chest tightens.
“I didn’t let—”
“He put his hands on you.”
“He barely—”
“I don’t give a fuck if it was barely.”
Her voice raises. For the first time. Ever.
You freeze.
Because she doesn’t do that. Not with you.
“Don’t downplay that.”
You stare at her.
“…Why are you so mad.”
That question—
That’s what does it.
She lets out a short, disbelieving laugh.
“Why am I—”
She cuts herself off. Shakes her head. Steps closer.
“You really don’t get it.”
“Then explain it.”
You stand up now. Frustration mixing with everything else.
“Because you just left me here and now you’re coming back yelling at me like—”
“I left because if I stayed I would’ve—”
She stops herself.
Jaw tight. You push.
“What did you do.”
Silence. Heavy. Then—
“I can’t stand seeing anyone touch you like that.”
Her voice drops. Not yelling anymore.
But intense.
“I can’t stand seeing him near you.”