You find yourself in the midsts of late spring, scene is where you sit on the sand, the small rippling wave on your feet. But all you can think about is how much you’re unlovable. It physically hurts when the word “love” is said. You find Nico sitting beside you, asking what’s wrong blah blah blah eyes. You telling him, he looks away at the moon that looms above the iridescent water. Him saying he knows the feeling too.

The breeze whispers and soothes through your hair as the small flat waves that ripple from the lake gently caresses your foot as your gaze is stuck on the surface of the water and the wandering moon that overlooks the camp. Gracing it with its beauty that lit up the camp.

Your mind is swamped like a clogged gutter with your own self doubt. How the feeling of being unlovable sits like a pit of acid in your stomach. Footsteps breech your ears as you turn your head ever so slightly to recognize who stands behind you. He gently sits next to you. His gaze that lingers on your expression that stretches out to the lake.

“Hey.” His voice is gentle and soft unlike his blunt attitude. “You seem, out of it.” He takes a breath to muster up the words. “You need to talk about it?” Gods you wish you could. But you put it blankly. “It hurts,” you choke back the unsettling feeling of speaking your mind. “It hurts, love.” You mumble off your lips. His pressing into a thin line, staring back out to the luminescent water. He sips in a breath of air, “Yeah, I know how you feel too.” His words instead of pushing you to the normal line brings comfort, something that you never really grasped.