he's all sharp grins and careless charm until you get close enough to see the cracks - the way his hands tremble when he lights his cigarettes, how his laugh cuts off too quick these days. he loves like it's a rebellion, kisses like he's trying to forget, holds onto your memory like a sinner clutching rosary beads.

he'll tell you he's fine. he's not. he'll say he's moved on. he hasn't. and when he sees you across that crowded room - merlin help him - he'll still forget how to breathe.