I ignore his penetrating gaze as I carefully slip out the first Valentine’s Day card. It’s the Spiderman one. It says, “Swing along with me. You’re special!”

“Will?” he says questioningly as I flick the lighter, lifting the flame to the bottom corner of the card. The waxy texture has long since faded, so it’s quick to ignite.

“Back home, when I was packing, I found the piece of notebook paper you wrote on in place of a Valentine’s Day card,” I say as we both watch as the flame eats away at paper, licking over the words until they’re nothing more than a pile of ash on my lap. “It’s in my wallet. I’d say I don’t know why I kept it, but I’m tired of lying to myself. I’ll give it to you later.” It pains me to say it, but I know this is what we need.

Closure.

For real this time.

It might be a silly, stupid gesture to some people, but burning the only physical evidence of what we once shared feels...powerful. It feels like a fresh start.

“What are you doing?” he asks thickly.

I let go of what’s left before I can burn myself and turn to give him a gentle smile. I think of that song he sang my first night back. “Breaking the cycle.”

His jaw snaps shut, but I don’t let whatever might be going through his head right now stop me. I’m afraid if I start to think about what I’m doing, I’ll change my mind or worse, cry some more. Enough tears have been shed today.

I slide out the next one and a sharp pang shoots through my chest, more jagged than the one before. It’s like I’m killing off a piece of me with each physical token of our past I destroy.

But this one...

This one.

It’s the Care Bear one I picked especially for him.

I stare at the blue Grumpy Bear scowling down at a red, smiling heart.

“You make the rain clouds go away!”

I squeeze my eyes shut.

Just fucking be done with it. It’s just an old piece of paper. It means nothing in the grand scheme of things.

I open my eyes and lift my shaky fingers. It takes a couple swipes of my thumb this time before a flame ignites. I lift the card, teasing the corner with enough heat it starts to curl up—

A hand darts out and grabs my wrist. “Don’t.”

I freeze.

The flame winks out, and the lighter is being pried from my fingers. The card is suddenly no longer in my hand and the bag of what’s left is no longer sitting on my lap.