It had started off so good.

Almost addictive, it felt like it could’ve been pulled right out of a pinterest board. He’d come knocking on your window at night, the two of you would run off to some party, end up together in the bathroom at the end of the night, his skin slick with a layer of sweat, and the smell of alcohol between the two of you. There were no arguments between the two of just pure fun. He’d make you laugh so hard you end up throwing up in the toilet, and he’d end up holding your hair back.

That was until the map was discovered.

Too many swirled line off his name to other girls, some boys too, everyone else he was seeing. Everyone that wasn’t you.

You’d never put an exclusive label on it, but with the way the two of you staggered home drunk and giggling he’d made you feel special. Whether Ant meant to hurt you with the fact you weren’t the only one didn’t feel relevant because all you could feel was the hurt.

It went from sharing crappy wired headphones found in the bottom of your bag to walking past eachother in the hallway without a word. He tried talking to you, multiple times, he even called, and a part of you wished you’d just pick up and forgive that fight, but you never did.

You had the lamp in the corner of your room on with your music playing through a speaker you were sat at your desk, papers and work scattered at it, but it was long forgotten, you were long distracted, using your ball pen to draw flowers up your arm when there’s a sudden pelt at your window.

You don’t have to look to know it’s Ant.