When the three of you got the news that you would be going to Stanford, part of you believed that something would finally change, that this new beginning would be the moment Art stopped hiding behind the ambiguity.

But that change never came. And before you could claim anything, Tashi Duncan got in the way.

Patrick was fascinated instantly. Art was too.

But with Art, it was different.

Because you watched him fall for her.

Art was still kind, he still asked how you were. He still treated you with that quiet sweetness he had always had. But you were no longer the secret center of his tenderness.

Now that version of him belonged to someone else.

And the worst part was that there was no breakup of whatever was between you two. There was no explanation, just a slow devastating shift.

One day he was still looking for you in a room. The next, he was looking for Tashi.

One day his hand brushed your arm in passing. The next, she was the one he wanted to impress.

Watching him fall in love with someone else made all those years of friendship and something that felt like more than that feel humiliating.

Because if what you had with him had been real, you thought, then he would not have forgotten it so easily.

Even while you watched him smile for her, you still remembered the warmth of his shoulders against yours. You still remembered the way he said your name when the two of you were alone. You still remembered that version of Art that made you feel chosen.

You still missed him. Because Art had never been cruel in an obvious way, he was cruel by being gentle, by making you feel loved only when no one was watching, by insinuating things that clearly wouldn't happen because you're just "friends".

---

The first few weeks at Stanford had been a strange succession of changes that happened too fast.

It was not just that he spent more time with her. It was the way his body seemed to naturally orient itself toward wherever she was. The way he searched for her in every room with his eyes or the way he laughed with an ease that was beginning to hurt you.

Every small gesture confirmed what you had spent weeks trying not to think about.

Whatever had existed between the two of you —or whatever it had been— was not fading.

It had already disappeared.

That night, you had gone out only to clear your head.

The dormitory was quieter than usual; only distant voices behind closed doors and the muffled echo of footsteps on the carpeted hallway could be heard.

You came back absentmindedly holding your keys between your fingers, your mind crowded with thoughts you did not want to sort through.

And then you saw him.

Art stepped out of one of the rooms at the end of the hallway.

The door remained open for barely a second before it shut behind him, but it was enough.

You recognized the room.

Tashi’s.

You stopped short.

It was a tiny movement, almost imperceptible, but inside you it felt as though something had been pulled violently tight.

Art looked up when he heard your footsteps and found you there, standing still in the middle of the hallway.

He smiled naturally.

As if there were nothing strange about that moment. As if it meant nothing.

“Hey” he said softly, with that same familiar gentleness.

And that normalcy was what hurt the most.

Because while your chest tightened all at once, while your mind scrambled not to imagine too much, he was calm.

As if stepping out of Tashi’s room was the most ordinary thing in the world. As if running into you there was nothing more than a minor coincidence.

You forced yourself to keep walking, though every step felt awkward.

“You okay?” he asked when you were close enough.