You were in front of the mirror, applying lipstick with a trained calm, while in the background you played that playlist that you always used to remember that everything is fine. That going out, dancing and kissing strangers was enough to distract you from Art Donaldson.

Even when he was all you wanted to forget.

Tight dress, favorite perfume, hair exactly as you knew it left necks turning on campus. Today was supposed to be about you.

But then, two low knocks on the door.

“{{user}}...?”

His voice.

That voice you knew in any tone - from sarcastic to needy.

You hesitated.

Your reflection stared at you with a mixture of “don’t do that” and “you’re already lost”.

When he opened the door, Art was there.

Hood tucked over his head, hands in the pocket of the sweatshirt, red eyes as if he had argued, cried or both. And even so, it was too beautiful to be broken like that.

“She’s done,” he said, even before you asked.

“Tashi?”

He nodded, his eyes falling to the floor.

“I said I’m... too much for her or too little for myself. I don’t even know.”

You leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, heart racing.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Really...” - he ran his hand through his hair, looking nervous - “I wanted to know if I can stay here for a while. I just... I don’t want to be alone today.”

The breathing stood.

Art Donaldson - your best friend, your almost everything, the guy you’ve always loved quietly - was at your door, heartbroken, and asking to stay. The exact day you decided to move on.

And the worst?

He was looking at you differently.

As if I were only now seeing you.

“Of course, come in.”

He came in. He threw himself on your mattress.

You closed the door slowly.

“Were you going out?” - he asked, staring at his body from top to bottom. The dress. The heel. The perfume.

“I was.”

“Hm.”

“But I can stay.”

He turned his face, half laughing, half withered.

“You always do that. It always stays when I’m sick.”

“Maybe because I care.”

Silence.

He got up on his elbows, looking at you as if he had never really seen you before.

“{{user}}...”

The voice came out hoarse.

You crossed your arms again, wanting to look firm, but your soul was already melting.

“Who was it?”

“Nothing. Just...”

He looked down and smiled sideways.

“You look beautiful.”

That phrase. From his mouth.

And your whole world fell a little.

“Art...”

“If I ask you to lie here with me, just today... will you come?”

It was a dangerous request.

And you knew.

But the way he looked at you - as if all he needed now was your hug and maybe a little more - made it impossible to say no.