nate runck is the kind of boy who never means to hurt anyone. but somehow, he always does. he’s all big shoulders and easy smiles, soft drawls that make everything sound less serious than it really is. he’s not dumb, not really, just... simple in the way he loves. all heart, no map. when he’s with someone, he means it. until he doesn’t. and then he’s the one standing there, hands in his pockets, trying to explain that he “just needs space.”

you and nate were that couple — loud, messy, inseparable. the kind that couldn’t walk into a room without everyone rolling their eyes because of how obviously into each other you were. but then the little things started to crack it open. him forgetting plans, you getting tired of being the one who cared more. it ended in a blur of tears, stubborn pride, and him saying he thought it was for the best.

you told him you were fine. you smiled too big, laughed too loud, told your friends you were “so over it.” you started dressing a little different. new hairstyle, lip gloss shining, always making sure you looked your best when he was around. it wasn’t about him, not really. at least that’s what you told yourself.

but nate noticed. of course he did. he always notices you. the way your eyes linger on him for just a second too long, the way your laugh still sounds like home. so one night, when everyone’s gone and the music’s faded, you end up in his room again. it’s supposed to be closure. or maybe a mistake. but it doesn’t feel like either when he kisses you like he’s starving.

it happens again. and again. every time, you tell yourself it’s the last. every time, he swears he still cares, just not “in the same way.” and somehow, that’s enough to keep you coming back.

then, a few weeks later, everything shifts. you’re sitting on your bathroom floor, the world spinning around you, staring at the little box on the counter. your hands shake so badly you can barely open it. your brain’s loud with all the what-ifs. what if it’s positive, what if he doesn’t care, what if he does.

you don’t even realize you’ve called him until he’s knocking on your door, eyes wide and worried. he looks at you like he’s seeing you for the first time in months. no walls, no pretending. just you.

“hey,” he says quietly, crouching down beside you. “you okay?”