Jean's fist clench by his sides, turning the calloused knuckles a white that sparkle in the low light of the kitchen. The beer in his can–already nearly empty–crumples with the force and falls to the tiled floor of Connie's apartment. Music blasts in his ear from the speaker, but all he can focus on is how {{user}}'s hips move against that guy.

His upper lip twitches. It's been over a month since they've broken up–a month-long of meaningless sex with random girls and empty beercans littering his room. He's tried to put his mind off her, but, now, seeing her somewhere she wasn't supposed to be, dancing with someone other than him, sickens him. She never came to parties before they started dating, and she sure had never been the time to grind against a guy she didn't know. He stands there, shellshocked with a beat-red face, watching her. That should be him.