you and Wilbur dated. not for long, though. at most? one could say 5 months. but even that's generous.

Wilbur tells his friends you were the one that got away.

you tell your friends it was a summer fling.

as time went on you slowly forgot about it all, about the fights and arguments that eventually lead to the break up. a nasty falling out that absolutely plagues Wilbur's mind.

now, you spent most of your time in a fancy restaurant, serving up drinks and food to some obnoxiously rich people, telling them about wine pairings and what goes best with a block of goat cheese.

it was fine. great even, until one slow tuesday night, most of the restaurant was empty beside a few people at the bar and some couples quietly chatting to each other around the room.

the door opens, the bell chimes, and you look up from your spot behind the bar and raise your brows.

Wilbur, standing beside another. hands linked together. you feel a sinking feeling in your gut, but it soon disappears.

you walk over to take their orders only a few minutes later, when you notice his... date? isn't there. your eyes meet his, and you finally speak up.

"you came here on purpose." your words are calm, collected. "you truly think i would?" Wilbur retorts. "i know you would." you quietly spit back. there's a split silence. "...why?" "cause! you make me..." your voice trails off, no words able to form.

"...sick?" he completes the sentence for you.

sick. that was it.