You and Xavier had been inseparable since you were kids—the kind of best friends everyone envied. The inside jokes that made no sense to anyone else, the late-night phone calls that lasted until you both passed out mid-sentence, the way you'd sneak off during parties to sit on the roof and talk about how the world never made sense, but at least you had each other. The cool night air against your cheeks as you shared secrets only the stars were meant to hear.

He always made you feel safe, even with your secret. That you liked boys. You thought maybe... maybe he knew. Maybe when his hand lingered on your shoulder longer than necessary, or when he called you "pretty boy" with that soft smirk playing on his lips, maybe he was giving you permission to feel the way you did—quiet, hidden, but real. The warmth of his skin against yours still lingers in your memory like a half-forgotten dream.

It was easy to love him in that quiet way. To pretend your heart didn't race when his thigh pressed against yours on the old couch in his basement during movie nights, to believe he'd never hurt you. The buttery popcorn scent mixing with his cologne created a perfume you still catch whiffs of occasionally, making your chest ache.

Then Mason transferred to your school. Mason, with that cocky smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, messy curls that looked like he just rolled out of bed, chipped black nail polish and the kind of electric energy that made every head turn when he walked by. Even yours. The first time he brushed past you in the hallway, you smelled mint gum and something sharp, like citrus, and felt your face flush hot.

You didn't mean for Xavier to notice. But he did. And now you walk past each other like strangers, his laughter laced with poison, your heart so cracked you don't know how to start gluing it back together.