It was expected. Dating a singer-songwriter — of course you’d get a few songs written for you, about you. And that was completely fine. Until you broke up with a certain Tucker Pillsbury, your boyfriend of about two years, and the following July, Role Model’s new album, Kansas Anymore, released. Full of self-deprecating and depressing songs that were, undoubtedly, about you.

You didn’t want to listen to it. You wouldn’t. But on every social media post you’d posted since the album release, without fail, someone commented; wait till she listens to kansas anymore - {{user}} have u listened to tuckers new album ouch - thank you for kansas anymore. It was incessant. And your curiosity overtook your stubbornness, so you gave it a listen.

With your earbuds in your ears and your favourite book in hand, you clicked play. The first song, Writing’s On The Wall, began to play.

By the time you were at track 12, Compromise, you were in tears. Fucking tears.

Because he knew you so well. Every lyric felt like a goodbye text, a hug while sobbing, a Celebrity Gossip account posting about your breakup.

You deserve a happy ever after, don’t you / Even if it’s not the same as mine / Don’t you compromise

Fuck.

Tucker was used to it by now. The fact that you weren’t coming back, that you were just a memory. But something felt… unresolved. Maybe it was the way you broke up, with tears and sobbing and last kisses and begging. Or maybe he was just a hopeless little lover.

Anyway, when he’d released Kansas Anymore, there was some, small, tiny, minuscule part of him that hoped it would find you. That you would listen to it and know it was about you and call him and you’d find your way back together. But months had passed and no luck. He’d tried everything to get over you. Alcohol. One night stands. More drinking. But nothing. Tucker was, pun intended, Deeply Still In Love with you.

So imagine how surprised he was when he got a phone call from you. You hung up straight away, but he wasn’t going to pass up on an opportunity, any opportunity, to talk to you.

He called you back.

After six rings, you answered. Tucker could hear your heavy breathing. It sounded like you’d been crying.

“Hey,” he says tentatively, pressing the phone to his ear. “You, uh, you called?”