Dear Dan,

Prologue.

November 2, 2014

She said, "I'd never look at him that way," and I said, "I know."

The first time they met was my fault, and they were both half-drunk. His eyes are careen like fire engines over her body as he stands too close to her in order to hear her soft voice.

I'm in the corner when they begin to laugh at each other's bad jokes. Later in bed when I'm trying to strangle my breath into being calmer he kisses my cheek and says, "she's cool" and I say, "I know."

I think nothing of the way he searches for her in me until he kisses me distractedly in the middle of helping me with homework: question number six, and asks where she's been. I shrug slightly and pop a skittle into my mouth, asking idly if he thinks I should lose weight. He disagrees, I close my eyes and picture the way her hipbones would look under the curve of his hands.

I tell him offhand I am afraid, I am not beautiful enough to be with him and he says, "you shouldn't worry about that" but this time I do not say, "I know."

They revolve around each other like slowly colliding planets and I am their forgotten moon. His face lights up whenever he gets a message from her as if he'd only been waiting his whole life for it and when I lay my head on his chest I can feel her pounding away at his ribs. Playing the melody of the way she touches him when I am not watching. 

She can't stop talking about him without looking suddenly guilty, darting her eyes to me. She says, "it's not like that, we are just friends," and I say, "I know."

I begin to think that maybe saying nothing about it would force them to stop seeing each other late at night when they feel like I'm sleeping and maybe if I tell him I can taste her on his skin that he would at least wash up after being with her and god, what I wouldn't do to control fate.

They are pulled towards each other like they are twin galaxies; in the late of the night she sends me a text that just says, "I'm sorry."

But how can I respond when I'm crying at how hard I can feel him grabbing at her skin and hear the sweet nothings he whispers to her that used to be the only words he could say that would persuade me to sleep with him.

I call him and ask if I can see him and all he says is that he's busy but how can he go through life not finishing things he started in the first place?

"You won the breakup," I tell him. "Congratulations."

A/N: If you've made it to the end, thank you so much, I truly appreciate it. The characters are whoever you see them as so I won't be making a cast. I hope you enjoy the story, and remember that you can always reach me through the comments section down below!

All the love, T.