{{user}} and Sodapop had been broken up for weeks, but he couldn’t seem to forget her. Everyone liked her. The gang, the kids at school—how could anyone not like her? But all it took was one fight, one moment where his pride burned hotter than his love. His ego had flared, his words had cut too deep, and just like that, he lost her. And still, she haunted him.

At the same time, {{user}} missed him in ways she couldn’t explain. Everyone loved her—she knew that. But no one looked at her the way Sodapop had, like she was the only thing in the room worth noticing. Their fight had been stupid, born out of his jealousy and her anger at being accused of things she never did. They both said things they didn’t mean. Things that stuck, and couldn’t be taken back.

While the whole town slept, Sodapop wandered the streets, searching for her shadow in every window, her voice in the rustle of the wind. He didn’t need much to be reminded of her—everything carried her name. The smell of cigarette smoke clinging to his jacket. The faded lipstick stain on an old Coke bottle in the Curtis kitchen. The places they used to walk together, now heavy with absence. She was everywhere. And he wondered if she was out there, too, lying awake, remembering him the same way.

Back in her room, {{user}} sat by the window, hugging her knees. The world outside looked the same, but it didn’t feel the same without him. She hated that she missed him after everything they said, after how much it hurt. She hated that no matter how many people told her she deserved better, none of them could touch the place he had. Nobody else knew how to see her like he did.