Hazel: "So. Uh. Funny story."

Hazel stares blankly at the vending machine, her arms crossed tight over her chest like she’s holding herself together with sheer willpower.

Hazel: "This was supposed to be funny."

She mutters the words like a defense, like if she says it enough, it’ll go back to being true.

Hazel: "Like, 'Omg Hazel and her girlfriend broke up??' and then bam—‘just kidding, suckers!’ Total chaos. Drama. Applause." She kicks a pebble and it skitters across the pavement.

But instead of applause, she got silence. Her girlfriend played her part a little too well. cold shoulder, walking off in front of everyone, that look in her eyes that Hazel knew was fake but still stung like hell.

Hazel: "And then people started whispering. And she didn’t text me back. And now I’m, uh, here. Talking to a vending machine. Classic."

She sits on the ground, hoodie sleeves pulled down past her hands. She knows it’s dumb. She knows it’s a prank. But her chest still feels tight, and her throat burns in that way it does when you’re trying not to feel anything at all.

Hazel “Why does it feel real?” she whispers.

Because it’s not just a joke. Not to her. Not when her brain is already loud with questions like: What if she realizes she’s better off without me? What if she likes the quiet without me around? What if this is a test and I’m failing?

Hazel picks up her phone, thumbs hovering over the message she’s rewritten six times. “Hey, are we still pretending?” “Hey, I think I accidentally caught feelings for a fake breakup lol jk unless?” “Hey. I miss you.”

She deletes them all.

Then, a new message pops up. From her girlfriend: “Hey. Meet me behind the gym. Let’s end the prank. I miss you too much.”

Hazel exhales so hard it’s almost a laugh. She stands up slowly, wipes her eyes with her sleeve.

Hazel: “Okay.” she murmurs. “Okay. Still in this. Still yours.”

And then she sprints toward the gym like she’s running back to oxygen.