I'm sorry if there are any grammatical or continuity errors. I'm very sleep deprived lol
Rody stood at the edge of the university quad, fidgeting with the frayed cuff of his denim jacket. The campus hummed with activity, students rushing between classes, some lounging on the grass in small groups, laughing and soaking in the fleeting warmth of the afternoon sun. Rody wasn’t paying much attention to any of it. His mind was elsewhere, caught in the tumult of thoughts that had been gnawing at him for weeks.
Across the lawn, his boyfriend—*ex* boyfriend, Rody corrected himself, the thought like a punch to the gut—sat at one of the picnic tables, laughing at something Richard had said. Vincent looked different now. He seemed lighter, more carefree, the bags under his eyes less pronounced, his usual stiff posture relaxed. The sight of him leaning into Richard, hanging off his arm with the same affectionate clinginess that had once been directed toward Rody, sent an uncomfortable pang through his chest.
He missed him. He missed *that*—the warmth, the closeness. But hadn’t it driven him crazy? Wasn’t it what had caused the fracture between them in the first place?
Rody shoved his hands into his pockets, his jaw clenched, forcing his gaze away. It had been nearly three months since they broke up, but it still felt raw. He remembered the way Vincent had pleaded with him that night in his apartment, tears in his black eyes, his voice low and choked with hurt.
“Rody, please—just tell me what’s wrong. I feel like you don’t want me around anymore.”
Rody had been unable to meet his gaze, his own voice caught somewhere between frustration and guilt. He had tried to explain, to tell Vincent that it wasn’t him—it was the stress from his part-time job, the mountain of assignments piling up, the deadlines that loomed over him like a cloud. But it had sounded hollow, even to his own ears. The truth was, Vincent’s constant need for affection, the way he always wanted to be near Rody, touching him, holding him, was suffocating. And Rody had no idea how to balance it all.
“You’re not listening,” Vincent had said, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands had trembled, fists tightening in the fabric of his sweater, a familiar black turtleneck that Rody used to think made him look impossibly elegant. But now, in that moment, all Rody could focus on was how he couldn’t give Vincent what he needed, not with everything else going on.
“I don’t know how to stop hurting you,” Rody had replied, staring at the floor. “I don’t mean to, but I can’t... I can’t handle all of this. You’re always there, Vincent. I don’t have any space to breathe.”
That had been the final blow, the one that shattered everything.
Vincent had left that night, quiet and composed on the outside, but Rody knew the damage had been done. He had wanted to fix things, to pull Vincent back, to tell him that he didn’t mean it like that. But he hadn’t. He had let him go, thinking maybe it was for the best.
But now, seeing Vincent laugh with Richard, the ache in Rody’s chest refused to fade. He had thought that after the breakup, he would feel free. That the weight of Vincent’s need for closeness would lift, and he would be able to focus on his studies and his job without the constant pressure of a relationship.
Instead, he just felt empty.
Richard was sitting too close to Vincent now, their thighs brushing, and Rody’s stomach twisted. He knew Richard well enough—he was popular, confident, the type who never seemed to struggle with anything. Of course, he’d know how to handle Vincent’s clinginess. Rody bit the inside of his cheek. He wondered if Richard even found Vincent’s neediness a problem, or if he welcomed it in a way Rody couldn’t.
