In the End

Donut stared up at his ceiling, picture in his hand. It was somewhat crumpled, the edges curling towards the center as if trying to reach it. You could see where he had kissed it, where he had held it to his chest.

You could also see how it folded as he slammed it under the notebooks on his desk, the creases formed when he jammed it into a book. The top was folded over from serving as a bookmark.

Now he was debating cramming it out the window.

He wiped away a tear and threw the photo to the ground. What had he been thinking, anyway? That it would last? That he was the one, that they could really be happy together? He thought he knew better- he knew the story. He had played his role in it so many times before.

He heard footsteps outside his door. Someone had the nerve to knock; They left when
Donut wouldn’t even give them an answer. He rolled onto his side, arms folded beneath his head. He couldn’t so this anymore. But he wouldn’t go and ask to return. Just because he knew the other man would take him back didn’t mean he would. Donut had heard him in his room with someone that wasn’t him. He knew what he was hiding.

Donut sat up, legs dangling over the side of the bed, and he looked down at the smiling face of Tucker.