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Vincent Charbonneau sat on the steps outside their high school, hands trembling as he flicked open his lighter, watching the tiny flame dance before snuffing it out. His cigarette, half-forgotten between his fingers, burned to ash. The late afternoon sun was dipping, casting long shadows over the pavement, mirroring the gnawing emptiness inside him.
It had been another day of enduring the sight of Rody and Manon together, laughing, whispering, and sharing the sort of closeness he had once shared with Rody. But those days seemed distant now, replaced by the cruel reality of Rody's indifference. Every time he saw them together, it felt like a knife twisting in his chest-a bitter reminder of how he had been left behind.
Vincent had tried to be understanding, had tried to accept Rody's feelings for Manon. But it was impossible. How could he, when every fiber of his being ached for Rody in ways that went far beyond friendship?
Rody had been his anchor, his one source of light in a life otherwise filled with darkness. Growing up in poverty, with a mother who died too soon and a father who never knew how to love-Vincent had clung to Rody like a lifeline. But now, that lifeline was slipping away, and Vincent was drowning.
The first time Vincent confessed to Rody, he had done it with trembling hands and a heart that felt like it would burst. But Rody, with his bright smile and unassuming nature, had let him down gently.
"Vin, I... I like you too, but not like that," Rody had said, shuffling his feet awkwardly. "I just... I like Manon, you know?"
And Vincent had nodded, even though it felt like his world was shattering.
Of course, it was Manon. It had always been Manon. She was everything Vincent wasn't-warm, kind, and effortlessly charming. Vincent couldn't blame Rody for falling for her. But he could hate her for taking Rody away from him, for making him feel so desperately alone.
A burst of laughter broke through Vincent's thoughts. He looked up to see Rody and Manon walking out of the school together, their arms brushing as they shared some joke. Rody's eyes were bright, his smile wide-something Vincent hadn't seen directed at him in a long time.
A bitter taste filled Vincent's mouth as he took a drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling up into the cold air. He wanted to scream, to tell Rody how much it hurt, how much he needed him. But every time he tried, the words stuck in his throat.
Rody caught sight of Vincent and waved, but there was a distance in his eyes, a casualness that hadn't been there before. "Hey, Vin," he called out as they approached. "What's up?"
Vincent forced a smile, masking the turmoil within. "Nothing much. Just... waiting for my ride."
"Mind if we hang out later? I was thinking we could go to the arcade," Rody suggested, his tone friendly but distant. But then, as if remembering something, he added, "Oh, but I promised Manon I'd help her with that history project tonight. Maybe tomorrow?"
Tomorrow. It was always tomorrow.
Vincent's smile faltered for just a moment. "Yeah, sure. Tomorrow."
Manon glanced at Vincent, her gaze soft but wary. She had always been kind to him, but he could see the unease in her eyes-the way she sensed his growing resentment.
Rody seemed oblivious, as usual. He was too busy joking with Manon, too wrapped up in his own world to notice the storm brewing within Vincent.
They chatted for a few more minutes before Rody and Manon said their goodbyes and headed off, leaving Vincent alone on the steps once more. He watched them go, feeling the familiar ache of loss in his chest.
