But then my brain went ahead and did it to her in my imagination. She and Parker could look really special. I let that war die in my mind. Not everything was about making content for social media.

We all stood up and cleaned off the tables. Tinsley told us she had already set up a calendar and sent us a link to our email so we could coordinate with Taylor’s schedule.

Taylor had another class. Fred planned to dress like a college kid and infiltrate the lecture hall so she could escort Taylor. Fred always loved cosplay. I guess even the slightly boring kind.

After we all said goodbye, Tinsley, Taylor, and I went back to the apartment so Taylor could grab her computer. When the girls were gone, I was left by myself.

Endgame’s door was closed, but I could tell that he wasn’t there. He would stay gone for a few days. Just enough for me to start worrying about him. And there was plenty of reason to worry. When he went on a tear, he went to the lowest of lows. He would find his worst vices and wallow in them.

It was an endless cycle, and I knew it was all games and mindfucks. It still worked, though. I needed to nut up and make him move out. My empathy for his situation always got the best of me. It was a quality I loved from my parents and siblings, but it had a dark edge to it when it was used against a person.

I hated myself as I pulled up Endgame’s social media. And like I predicted, there was a vague passive-aggressive message posted while he was wearing his pink shirt. It was for me. Cruel pink because he only wore that color when he was intending on breaking my heart. And he knew I'd be looking. And I hated that he knew it and hated that I did it.

I needed to stop. He needed to be in my past. When the good was good, it was great. But the bad? It was the kind of shit that ate at a person’s well-being.

The first time I broke up with Endgame we were both blasted in the club on 8th Street.

I’d heard from Caesar that Endgame had been dealing and was seen groping a very willing guy on the street.

We’d fought. We’d drunk. Eventually, I stormed out and visited Parker. Straight Parker had no romantic interest in me, but I knew his presence made Endgame jealous. Parker was a very, very good-looking guy. His muscles were almost anime-level crazy.

I’d sat at the table, a big round number at first by myself, then with Parker while he was on break from tending bar, and then the booth filled with people. I was quiet and Parker kept my drink full.