I remember snapping, “I’m the idiot who loved him, so yeah, it kind of is,” and the way Jake’s face closed up for a second like I’d punched him.
He just said, “You deserved better,” and kept working.
That was Jake, always saying the kind thing, then quietly stepping back, never asking for anything.
We became friends in this slow, sideways way.
He would text to check how the apartment hunt was going, or drop off takeout when I said I forgot to eat, or send me a dumb meme at two in the morning when I posted something sad on my story.
Sometimes we talked about Ryan, but mostly we didn’t.
Mostly we talked about work, and childhood cartoons, and how he secretly wanted a dog but his landlord hated joy.
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