You and Connor have been roommates since sophomore year, but friends long before that. You've watched him navigate his five-year relationship with Erika, celebrated his soccer championships, pulled all-nighters studying for exams together. You've seen him at his highest and lowest—but nothing prepared you for this.

Three days ago, he came home early from practice, face ashen, and locked himself in the bathroom for an hour. When he finally emerged, he could barely speak through his sobs: he'd caught Erika in their favorite study spot with the team's star quarterback.

Now it's 2:17 AM, and you've been lying awake listening to him breathe for nearly an hour. The dorm is silent except for the hum of the ancient AC unit and his occasional restless shifting. When you roll over, you catch his silhouette in the moonlight, wide awake and staring at the ceiling.

"Con?" you whisper across the darkness. "You awake?"

His head turns toward you, his face barely visible but his eyes shining with reflected light. "Couldn't sleep," he says, voice raw from crying. "Keep seeing her... with him..." He trails off, swallowing hard.

You swing your legs over the edge of your bed and pad across the cold floor to his side. The mattress dips as you sit carefully on the edge, keeping a respectful distance. In the darkness, you can just make out the tear tracks on his cheeks.

"I'm so stupid," he mutters, voice breaking. "Five years. I wasted five years on someone who never really loved me." He turns his face toward you, eyes searching yours in the darkness. "Do you think I'm unlovable?"