The amount of dishes is ridiculously large, maybe even exaggerated, in Henry’s mind - how could there be upward of twenty-five plates and however many cups could a handful of people use? In one evening? It didn’t seem realistic in the slightest, a comedic pile of work that he decided was worth it to volunteer to do before he got roped into it either way.

He scrubbed at the dishes with his thumbs at first, but there was no friction, no give to the emptied plates that had served their last group meal. There’s no getting around it, and Henry sighs. He has to touch the sponge.

He cringes at the soft touch, at the sense that he was touching week-old food and mutated bacteria and things he couldn’t even think of -- he ran it under hot water, then got to work on the many plates and saucers that filled the left half of the metal sink. He avoided thinking about the sponge altogether.

He volunteered for this, and it wasn’t that much of a problem to help out and clean up (he’s not Donghae, running away at the first sign of it), but now he thinks it’s a mistake. The house is alive with sound and heavy with sleep-envy, and Henry hears and feels it all at a distance with his hands soaked, when he can only think about...

It’s been weeks like this, days of hot and cold and tenuous tensions that break one moment for a second of laughter, a second of almost normal conversation, then stills the next second. Like water, the river run dry for the season, to emerge the next spring with steady flows.

The conversation was mostly good - Ryeowook and him and warm hands in between, almost like their huddling together in their early subgroup training days. It feels like good until the awkwardness snakes in, strangling their growth like weeds in a garden. It goes back and forth and back again, and in so short of a time that the whiplash is almost constant.

It’s been like this - and it’s been a lot better, the strange unspoken awkwardness between them aside - and it all led to today, to this time when they can all finally relax and get a true night’s sleep. To today, where there was no food restrictions and no managers to chide for not working every waking second, and Henry feels like all the weight in the world removed itself from his shoulders.

A look around, to everyone’s faces, and it was a truth spoken among all of them. It was one of those rare moments where a whole group experiences the same thing, an internal sigh of oh thank god.

It led to today when Henry saw Ryeowook smile at his joke - a really really bad joke that probably doesn’t even translate into Korean with any grace, and yet, he smiled - not like he was doing so out of custom or to be polite, but in a way that warmed Henry’s heart all over again.

There was no awkward after it - no heartache that was more than just unrequited love. The air stayed clear, all through dinner, a sort of strange understanding that, no, whatever problem it was between them is not gone, but right now is good and there’s no reason to spoil that.

It was the type of smile that made Henry think about heartache all over again, too - in a different way. Like the distance was somehow better than...

No, no... it wasn’t. Distance was worse than one-sided love, absolutely.

It was slow going, the way they were working their way across that ridiculous bridge of friendship after all the uneasy and unprovoked awkwardness. But maybe it was working itself out - oddly, he thinks, without any of his own (or Ryeowook’s, even) active participation. Maybe wounds were stitching themselves up?

Henry snorts at himself, the image of self-stitching wounds looking so hilariously Harry Potter in his mind that he really couldn’t help it.

“What are you laughing at?”

And the air in his lungs falls flat at the sound of Ryeowook’s soft but not entirely displeased voice.

Henry looks over his right shoulder, Ryeowook standing there with a handful of mugs carefully balanced against his dark purple sweater, eyeing him with a curious look that felt friendly and utterly normal.

Well, almost normal. Since that fatefully pleasant night of warming and slowly getting used to communicating again, normal was right on the tip of Henry’s tongue.

Not quite there, but almost.

Henry smiled when he returned to his dishes, scraping off bits of pork that dried a little too well onto the plate. “Ah, it’s nothing. Just magic,” he smiles again, a little bigger and stronger than the last one, the boundaries of normal growing nearer and nearer.

He could feel the hesitation just before Ryeowook decided to join him, mugs still in hand. “Magic?”

“Yep. Harry Potter stuff. And, ah, you can hand those to me,” Henry nods at the three mugs.

“Oh. Ah, thank you,” Ryeowook says after a moment of thought - like he wasn’t expecting such easy conversation, and then sets the cups in the water.

Henry puts up a plate, straight from the sink to the rack and Ryeowook reaches out to stop him. “Wait, no, no.”

“What? What?” Henry panics, hand paused halfway in the air.

“You’re supposed to rinse them.”

“I did?”

Ryeowook sighs - laughing as he does. He pulls the faucet to the other sink and begins running clear, warm water, plugging it with the extra stopper.

“Have you never washed dishes before?”

“Of course I have.”

“Then you should rinse them in clear water over here. Actually, here,” Ryeowook chuckles, taking the two plates from the rack and sitting them in the rising water. Soap suds bubbled on the surface. “There we go.”

“Oh.”

Ryeowook’s laugh was gentle and unexpecting and if anything, something resembling the normal way they used to be together. Talking if they wanted, not talking if they didn’t feel like it.

Henry continues to scrub and clean, continuously dirtying the water from the meal he helped prepare. Helped a little, but still, that was helping.

Huh. It really was over now, wasn’t it? The touring, the shows, the singing and live stages and the learning new choreography for the whole world to see - at least, they’re done with the music shows. There’s another fan party, but that’s over a week away, and then it’ll all start again. At least, the parts in between will, where he wasn’t sure where he was, who he was - who Ryeowook was to him and maybe just who he could be to be someone more... important to Ryeowook.

Maybe not more important but less ignored. Less like the sideline friendship that took turbulent turns whenever Ryeowook found a new love, a new interest or bedmate or someone to hold his attention.

If all of that was over, at least, then this may be the beginning of normalcy.

There’s a lot more he wants, of course. But that’s not for him to feel envy over, and his fingers tighten around the sponge at the thought - that’s really all he can do, right? Just... be here and take what he can get.

Ryeowook brushes over Henry’s hand, an idle gesture that hints to more but is restrained by the residual tensions. “Hey? You okay?”

Henry swallows, the haze in his eyes making a startling retreat. “Oh, uh. Yeah, yeah, sorry - I think I’m more tired than I thought.” Henry hands him the mug, and Ryeowook rinses it in the steaming water.

“Hm, yeah. It’s been too long on the road, we certainly deserve a good night of sleep.”

“Yeah, for sure. We’ll need an entire week of them.”

The dishes were plentiful and for several of them, neither had a word to say. It was like they both had something to say but not the right to say it, for whatever reason.

Standing so close to him makes it easy for Henry to remember how love feels - the way it warms and slows down time and turns thoughts into daydreams. Ryeowook is a daydream, a memory, the future he wants - but the seas between them are too wide to pass.

He feels awful close right now, and the seas may just be in the sink, and if he ever wanted to say anything, then it would have to be now. Before they ship off to their own duties and their own lives once again, only meeting for work.

Would it be wise? To risk it all now that things have righted themselves out?

He hands over another dish and the seas are somehow crossed, their shores the same distant walk from one another and his nerves rise to the occasion.

Now is the time, right?

“I’m sorry.”

Henry had half a mind to think that he was the one who said it, because he sure was thinking it (for what reason? why was he always apologizing?) but it was Ryeowook who spoke his thoughts.

Henry glances at him, because courage is a fragile thing and eye contact can break it like it never even existed. “...I, um-”

“I know we’ve been having issues and honestly I don’t even know where they started, but... I’m sorry. I didn’t have the... nerve to apologize before, ah... and I really wanted to. Make a real apology, that is.”

Henry feels like apologizing too, but what he would be apologizing for hasn’t even been spoken out loud. “Oh...“

“I’ve just... I don’t know, it’s just... I regret that we’ve not spent more time talking, instead of... not.” He’s got half a sad smile pasted on when he adds, “I should be taking better care of you.”

Oh god, Henry thinks, he could say it - I’m sorry I love you, I’m sorry I can’t give you what you need, I’m sorry I haven’t said I love you and told you what I really meant but I can’t because we can’t...

But there’s no words to say there, so Henry lies. “It’s... Thank you... You’re not entirely to blame, I know I haven’t made it easy either. I’m sorry the last however many weeks were like that.” He looks up to tentatively meet Ryeowook’s eyes, feels like he’s too close to him because he can sense that tension - that Ryeowook has something else to say but can’t. He smiles instead, breaks into a smile that melts Henry’s heart. “I guess... Well, now that, um, now that we have the time,” Henry starts, heart pounding like war drums, hands busying themselves with one of the last plates. “I think I... I think I have something to tell you.”

Ryeowook lights up - it’s like his aura brightens, because it’s lifting Henry and it makes his heart relax just a bit. Then Ryeowook comes back with, “Actually, I have something to tell you, too.”

Henry’s not sure if their hands lingered or not, but the contact felt like a bridge. It feels good and fresh and it feels like a blessing that Ryeowook wants to share something. Henry nods his head, gestures to let him go first. “Oh, please share.”

Ryeowook’s cheeks are flushed - it wasn’t there just a second ago, but it was there now, in the subtlest of ways, and he rubs at the back of his neck, like he doesn’t even notice the water seeping into the top of his collar from it. Henry has a glimmer of hope, maybe, and it feels like he’s wrapped in sudden anticipation.

“Well, I’m not even sure if it’s news.”

“Wait, what is?” Henry lingers on a dish long since clean, and then turns on the hot water faucet.

“I... ah,” Ryeowook shifts, takes a breath, and when Henry glances over, the smile on his face is private and reserved. “Well, I guess it’s not news because I’m sure everyone sees us, but I wanted to tell you that I’m actually... Ah, well, Sungmin and I are sleeping together.”

That’s when Henry feels that drop in his stomach, his lungs, like he’s falling off the edge of something and tethered to an infinite roller coaster.

“Like, it’s not a big deal, this thing between me and Sungmin, it’s been happening for a little while now but... yeah.” There was something on his mind - he had more to say. Still, always, had something he was never saying.

It wasn’t, in itself, news to him - Sungmin had mentioned it offhand about a week ago while Henry was waiting for him to get his things together for one of their gym trips, as casually as he'd talk about the weather.

"It's just some fun, nothing serious," Ryeowook adds.

Those are practically the same words Sungmin used. Maybe exactly the same. But something's unsettling Henry now. He realizes that the tops of Ryeowook's ears have turned pink, and he's avoiding eye contact, ducking his head, smiling a small, secret smile at the plate he's holding. Henry's stomach sinks with dread, though he doesn't know yet why.

"He's really good," Ryeowook says conspiratorially, shooting him a sideways glance with raised eyebrows, an expression that Henry's learned means he's supposed to understand well enough to agree, or at least be curious. Luckily, Ryeowook looks away before he can see anything amiss, his smile growing bigger. "Attentive, gentle, but also strong, you know?" The look on his face is soft, especially around his eyes.

The dread grows cavernous, threatening to consume Henry entirely. "Is that so?" He ekes out the words. They come out mild, something close to appropriate, or at least, he hopes so.

Ryeowook laughs. He sounds embarrassed at himself, though he doesn't look upset about it. "Mm. Ah, anyway, I just wanted to tell you so you wouldn't worry, since we've both been watching over him since his breakup. He's... been a lot better about letting me help him," Henry's throat tightens, "and he's been treating me out for meals more, too..." it spreads to his chest, "...but like I said, it's not serious or anything."

The words are belied by the gentleness of Ryeowook's expression, and the way he's not meeting Henry's eyes, looking a bit wistful, a touch lost in his own world. "You know how important Sungmin is to me. I won't do anything to hurt him," Ryeowook finishes, his voice soft and serious.

There was no chance, was there? Not for any of them, because the shy way Ryeowook is with him right now, the way he lingered on the word together earlier like it was delicate, Henry saw something else. Ryeowook’s words flow like spring breezes carrying flowers, light with every time he says Sungmin’s name. “It’s been a month, but we were talking about it and decided we should share this with everyone so they’re not caught off guard.”

It's a good thing that he's not looking. That way, the moment that Henry realizes Ryeowook's in love can devastate him in the same secrecy that he's harbored his own feelings.

He only gets a second to school his expression, to try to look like his heart's still in one piece.

The water is still running. “Henry?” Ryeowook’s voice pierces through it.

Thank god for steam. Henry pushes back the tears like they weren’t even there. “I’m sorry, I was... uh...” No matter the stumbling, he still silently thanks show business for the strength to not completely fall apart.

“Oh, good, you’re still listening,” Ryeowook teases. "Anyway, that's all. What did you want to tell me?"

. His mind’s gone blank. Ryeowook looks at him with that same softness while Henry's still reeling, trying not to know that it's not for him, that it's because Ryeowook's still thinking about Sungmin, while he's now on the spot to say anything else.

Anything but the one thing he can't bear to say anymore.

"Um. It's just." He sets the mug he was holding down in the sink and wipes his hands off on his jeans. "I'm going to have a solo album" is what finally comes out. "I didn't want to say anything until it was a sure thing, I mean, you know how the company is." He's babbling in the face of Ryeowook's growing wide-eyed excitement. "We've only got a few things recorded-"

And then he's being squeezed so hard that he can't get another word out.

He’s supposed to feel thrilled saying that but it sorta just echoes. He doesn’t quite feel the same enthusiasm he saw growing in Ryeowook’s expression, the way his eyes lit up, the way his smile turned electric and shined like neon - a split second of oh my god congratulations! framed by growing parentheses of an angelic smile when he finally lets go.

“Are you serious? You’re going to have a solo debut?”

Ryeowook is visibly vibrating with happiness and also has no idea what to do with his hands, the bouncing soles of his feet, and he finally decides on lunging at Henry one more time, hugging him so tightly that Henry forgets his problems for a moment of happiness.

He squeezes back, but it feels like a vise around his heart, squeezing it broken.

“Haha! Ah! Henry!” He’s bouncing on his toes now, bringing Henry into an improvised wiggle dance that looks ridiculous. “I’m so proud of you! You deserve this, so much, and ahhhhhh!” He ends, trailing off as he pulls away to look Henry in the eyes. “I’m seriously really proud of you,” he says, so sincerely, so emphatically, his hands landing on Henry’s shoulders. He seems to have forgotten his own news, so absorbed in Henry’s, and Henry thinks that maybe...

Maybe that’s best. His smile is plaster now - a mold to match his eyes and his lungs and his now-steady hands. “Thank you! I have no idea what this will be like,” and Henry realizes his tone is made of nerves.

“It will be great.”

“You think?”

“It’s you, of course it will be!” There wasn’t a doubt in his mind, Henry thinks. What a good...

Friend. A lovely, wonderful, perfect friend - Henry looks at the clock again. “Oh good god.”

One AM.

Ryeowook gasps (the sound alone was almost enough to make Henry laugh, how sudden and indignant it sounds). “Oh my god.”

But the thought hits Henry when he realizes. “Wait, though... We don’t have any schedules tomorrow.”

“It sounds like a miracle, doesn’t it?” Ryeowook giggles quietly.

Not really.

Reality sort of phases through Henry now, it just feels like a dream that he’s overdue to wake from. “I can’t believe it either,” he manages to reply.

“Do... Do you have any plans?” Ryeowook ventures, and it sounds more timid, more shy.

Henry can't even think about what it could mean, so he doesn’t. “What, tomorrow?’” He chuckles. “No, thank god.”

“We should find some time, then to, ah. Spend together. Forget training and practices, just for us.”

It hurts even more now when Henry nods yes, and then when he can’t take it anymore. “Well, I have to go get some sleep. This will be the first night I can sleep all the way through in in five months! And probably one of the last after this weekend.”

“Ah, of course. I understand. I’m going to straighten up before I sleep too - maybe even reclean your dishes, yeah?” And Henry laughs; it’s genuine, but fleeting.

“Good night!” And Ryeowook leans in, pulls him into another hug. A gentle one, more overpowering than any other hug because when they separated, he could still feel his phantom heat. The lingering feeling of something not settling in the air hung over Henry, even as he says goodnight. It follows him around the house, through the dining room and his goodnight wishes to the few awake members that were still out in the common areas. It stays with him, like dust settling from an explosion, even when he takes an admittedly reluctant shower and lies down.

He knows who else is still awake, too. He shakes his head, trying to shake loose something like sleep, but the debris fell and all he could do was remember and think and then forget.

But there’s no forgetting. He starts sniffling, and that’s bad enough. Then his pajama pants get stuck a bit awkwardly, ‘cause he felt weird at the prospect of sleeping in someone else’s bed but he didn’t wanna go anywhere else, either, so he tugs at them weakly while he’s wiping at his eyes. Shortly after, he gives up and rolls back over onto his stomach and presses his face into the pillow. He grips a fistful of the blanket, the only thing around to ground him, and it’s just... too much.

Henry doesn’t normally cry in bed, but he almost feels entitled to it now - end of a big chunk of the tour, end of the idea that he could tell Ryeowook his feelings, end of a lot of things that were on rocky ground to begin with. He has every right to cry, now, in this bed, away from others at an ungodly hour in the morning.

Crying doesn’t always help and right now, the scent of Ryeowook still following him, the feeling of his phantom hug still clinging to his body, it doesn’t really feel like anything can help. There’s only the numb feeling and the pulsing bouts of pain when feeling returns - the emptiness then the overwhelmingness of love crashing down on him one after the other.

Heartache isn’t new to him, but he doesn’t ever recall it hurting like this. Maybe this is what heartbreak feels like, then. Unbearable and ading and ever-present.

He doesn’t even know if it will go away, is the thing - is time the cure for love? Will he just have to wait out the feelings until the feelings get tired of him and move onto someone else?

The lights are dim, now - but he doesn’t know how long he’s been trying to sleep - and the house is quiet - hums through the walls and from the street, the rare shout from Donghae and Kyuhyun as they battle for control of whatever game they’re playing in the next room over, yet it all feels so distant from anything and anyone that it may as well be an island for the night.

His heart felt shipwrecked and he decides, once the streams of tears ebb and the pounding in his head quiets, that this must be heartbreak. There’s nothing more intense than this moment and he knows that this may be the only proof his love will ever have: soaked pillowcases and a headache to rival a hangover.

He’s laying down for however long and he remembers something even worse - if that even exists, on his island of a night. He remembers it, thinks about the pink rise to Ryeowook’s cheeks when he talked about Sungmin. He remembers the way Ryeowook talked and it sounded like love, and the contrast of the way Sungmin talked when it sounded like fun.

If Ryeowook was in love, then wouldn’t this end the same way Sungmin and Hyukjae’s relationship went? One with too much interest and the other with not enough?

was was and Henry thought it was possible just to want . It’s possible to not, so a relationship with only ... seemed bearable, livable - maybe even passable if he ever got the nerve to confess his feelings.

wasn’t feelings or emotions or love, necessarily - it’s the body wanting something and then getting something. wasn’t a part of Henry’s life and so he thinks, yes, it’s okay - Ryeowook’s getting something he needs, something he wants, but not something he’s in love with.

If he’s in love with Sungmin, then there really is nothing in the stars about Henry’s feelings. His feelings, just an overstatement of the universe’s capacity to create love unequally, to make someone’s favorite person just out of reach so that not everyone can be happy.

And then Sungmin? If he doesn’t want Ryeowook the way Ryeowook wants him?

Henry rolls over again, restlessness giving way to the exhaustion that fills his bones and weighs down his eyelids.

Maybe no one wins at love.

-

Sungmin and Ryeowook have gotten closer. It didn’t seem possible, but supposedly, it’s a thing that can happen when people have .

Since they keep it under wraps except in private, though, it’s not so bad. They seem to be careful to only look friend-close the rest of the time. But they’re always touchy and happy and god, he doesn’t wanna hate it, but it’s hard not to, with how painful it is to see. Henry wonders if their discretion is by unspoken agreement or if they had a discussion about it. What, like a relationship? That makes him feel awful, so he stops thinking about it.

Bad enough to ever have to see the signs of Ryeowook’s infatuation, clear as day.

But that’s all there is to see. There’s no, like, flowers and heart-shaped cards left lying around or anything like that. They don’t sneak off together at performance venues, either. The two of them are just... as cuddly and flirty as they were before Sungmin’s heartbreak, except a little more often. Only, once in a while, Ryeowook’s touch lingers in a particular way, or his voice goes high and sweet when he fusses over Sungmin, and it’s enough to hurt.

So many times Henry wishes he could cut the feelings out of his heart and throw them in the trash, but it doesn’t happen, just agony and jealousy when Ryeowook and Sungmin hug, tease each other, hold hands or link arms or the worst one, when Ryeowook outright sits on Sungmin’s lap and Sungmin’s arms wrap around his middle.

. Any of it could mean nothing, or not. The only thing this drawn-out hell is good for is recording some of the songs set to go on his solo album.

In Thailand, Henry firmly keeps his entertainer’s mask on. He’d superglue it if he could. There’s only one moment where it slips, when Ryeowook pulls off one of those vocal feats he does so well that it pierces through. All Henry can do with that is make a bid for his attention, but it goes ignored, so back on the mask goes, hiding his flicker of disappointment.

And yet, towards the end of the song, Ryeowook appears to be checking in with him. There’s no time to follow up on that, of course, until they take a break to change outfits.

Henry places a hand on Ryeowook’s shoulder, unsure where the lines are drawn today. “Hyung,” he starts, but doesn’t know where to go with it. He must look concerned enough that Ryeowook fills in the blanks for him of his own accord.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that earlier. I’m so tired and it was all I could do to keep my attention on the song, and I knew I’d mess up if I looked over to you.” In the harsh light from the vanity, it looks like the tops of Ryeowook’s ears turn a little pink. “Sorry to worry you,” he says with a lopsided smile.

Henry squeezes Ryeowook’s shoulder. “It’s fine. Are you okay?”

Ryeowook blinks slowly and takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I just need some sleep.”

“And some food!” Henry chimes in, earning Ryeowook’s eyeroll, though the other man is smiling as he does so. He’s counting that as a victory. Partial credit, or something.

“Look, you’re a movie star now,” Ryeowook jabs lightheartedly. “If you’re about to insist on going out to eat something expensive with lots of meat again, you’re paying.”

That’s when the most mortifying thing happens. Out of whatever godforsaken reflex lurks in the corners of his mind, waiting for the worst times possible to hijack his good sense, Henry blurts out in English, “It’s a date!” He stares at Ryeowook, wide-eyed, and it’s obvious when what he said clicks because the older man’s eyes go just as wide.

They’ll never find out what might’ve happened, though, because Donghae crashes into Henry, shirtless already, loudly singing what sounds like it might be a folk song, but his accent coming out, mixed with the steadily-rising noise of the other members and staff around them, the hiss of sprays and the chiming of phones, drowns out any hope of figuring it out.

All touched up and touched out, they go up, go on, soaking in the adoring attention of the audience.

It's hours yet before Henry realizes that the unsettling feeling he has is one of having missed an opportunity before he even knew he had it.

-

Today’s been one of those days. He doesn’t know why, or what set it off, some little comment, some not-quite-friendly look in his direction, , he doesn’t know, it just happens and his head is spinning and he can’t handle anything.

All he wants is to talk to someone who cares about him. That’s all. But his friends aren’t replying to his messages, which just makes it worse. The thought of calling only to be sent to voicemail is too much to take, so he doesn’t. If it weren’t for the time difference, he’d call his mom. He almost does it anyway, but what would he say to her? ‘I think a photographer might’ve looked at me funny, so I wanna hide in my room forever now.’ Yeah, that’d go well. Waking her up for a lecture is really not what he’s looking for at the moment.

He stacks up his pillows behind his head, forming them into a steep mountain. His fingertips trail over the softness of his comforter in an effort to calm himself down. Antsy energy is building up in him with nowhere to go, and he hates it, he hates it so much. He clenches his hand into a fist, a little wave of soft getting caught up in it and it’s nice but it doesn’t help.

“,” he says, as much to break the quiet as to let off a bit of steam. Then his fingers fly over his phone’s keyboard one more time.

Ryeowookie-hyung! He starts, because he knows about that weak spot now and is not above using it in a pinch. You keep saying you’ll bring snacks and we’ll go to the river, so let’s go go go already!! ^^ You have time before radio, right?

An agonizing five minutes of pacing later, his phone buzzes. He dives back onto the bed to read, the mattress bouncing him once as he unlocks his phone.

Hyung is sorry >.< Sungmin needs me today. I’m going to take his mind off his troubles. Maybe tomorrow?

The phrasing sounds like code. It might be a euphemism, probably is, and Henry hates it. Hates everything about the words staring up at him from the screen of his phone - especially that he’s been turned down.

Tears well up in his eyes unbidden. Little makes him cry nowadays, after everything he’s been through, yet somehow, this impossible man happens to be on that short list.  you! He thinks, even though a part of him knows he’s being unfair. I thought I was important to you.

He doesn’t bother answering.

After a couple of hours of music and meaningless games on his phone and some furious cooking, because chopping things and also setting them on fire helped, because if he’s angry, he can stop being sad, he’s calmed down and decides to cheer himself up. A minute to wash his face and comb his hair and he heads out the door without putting on a mask, since it would be amazing in more ways than one if someone recognized him and wanted a picture, ending up at a record store.

Taking pains to look casual about his browsing around, he finds the section where Break Down would be, elated to see the empty rows. He takes a picture to post on twitter, the sight bringing the first genuine smile he’s had all day to his face. Proof positive of his dream coming true. Of maybe, finally being adored. Recognized. His hard work is paying off!

The high doesn’t last, though, or at least, it can’t cover up the ache for long. Deflated all too quickly, he walks back out onto the street, hands shoved firmly in his pockets. For just a second, he runs his thumb over where he’s stashed the hair clip, and can only think, You used to put me first.