The first week was the hardest. Alex caught himself reaching for his phone to send Sam a meme, or stopping by a café to buy Sam’s favorite pastry before remembering there was no one to give it to. He slept badly, dreamed of Sam’s laugh—the real one, before the crack appeared.
Sam was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “I don’t know how.” The Boyfriend
“Try.”
“I was,” Alex admitted. “But I think you were right. We were good for a while, and then we weren’t. That’s not a crime.” The first week was the hardest
Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing changed. That’s the problem. I kept waiting to feel… more. And I don’t.” He finally looked at Alex—really looked. “You’re kind, and funny, and you remember how I take my coffee. You deserve someone who wakes up excited to see you. I wake up feeling guilty.” Sam was quiet for a long moment
“Talk to me,” Alex said one evening, sitting on the edge of Sam’s couch. The rain drummed against the glass, steady and insistent.
Sam’s jaw tightened. “I’ve been thinking… maybe we’re not right for each other.”