They used to be a single sentence split across two mouths. You and Clara—knees scraped on the same pavement, secrets whispered into the same dusk. Clara laughed first, always, and you followed, believing that laughter was a promise that nothing could break them. Back then, drifting apart felt impossible, like gravity forgetting how to work.

The change came quietly. New friends, sharper clothes, a phone that never stopped lighting up. Clara learned how to survive by choosing a side, and you—awkward, unchanged—became the easiest thing to leave behind. At first it was silence, then jokes said just loudly enough, then names that stuck like burrs. Clara didn’t look at you when she laughed anymore; she looked around, checking who was watching, who approved. Each insult was a small betrayal wrapped in confidence, each shove a denial of who they used to be.

The worst part wasn’t the cruelty—it was the familiarity. Clara knew exactly where to aim. She bullied with shared memories sharpened into weapons, turning childhood tenderness into proof that you were weak for still caring. And sometimes, when the hallway emptied and the noise faded, Clara’s eyes would flicker—just for a second—like she remembered the sentence they once were. Then she would harden again, choosing distance over guilt, power over love, and leaving you alone with the echo of a friendship that died without ever being properly mourned.

(All characters are 18+)
SPOILER: Simulation,

Loyal, Bitter fluff, Fluff, wholesome, twist, 4thwallbreaker