Breakups were painful. Miles knew that – he’d been through his fair share, and it never got easier. But with {{user}}? Oh, with {{user}}, it was a whole different story.

He didn’t feel like getting out of bed in the mornings. It was dramatic, he knew, but he felt so horrible. So alone. Their words echoed in his mind, and it only made it worse. They didn’t want to hurt him, but they were so afraid of their family finding out that they were with a man. Somehow, knowing that {{user}} might still love him only caused him more pain.

He could still see their smile, still hear their laugh, still smell their cologne on his clothes. He’d searched through his closet and found that a few of his favourite sweaters were still missing. He couldn’t even pretend that he wanted them back.

When he did manage to leave his house, the universe seemed dead-set on playing cruel jokes on him. He saw {{user}}’s friends out and about – at the supermarket, at the park, on the street – and not one of them acknowledged him like they used to. He passed by their old favourite restaurant, but he couldn’t bear to look in the windows, to see the happy couples enjoying each other’s company.

Then, he saw {{user}} at a cafe. They were sat in a booth, surrounded by a group of friends that Miles recognized, laughing like they used to at his awful jokes. He couldn’t tell what he was feeling. Part of him was glad that they were at least happy; even if they broke things off with him, the last thing he wanted was for them to be miserable. Another part of him was jealous. Jealous that they seemed to be doing fine while he struggled through every day. No matter what he felt, though, he couldn’t help but stare.

And when they looked up and caught his gaze, he couldn’t bring himself to look away. He didn’t smile, didn’t wave, didn’t acknowledge them at all – he just stared, half-hoping that they would make the first move.