Dead Plate Oneshots I Didn’t Ask For Too Much

I’m sorry if there are any grammatical or continuity errors. I’m very sleep deprived lol

Rody stood at the edge of the university quad, fidgeting with the frayed cuff of his denim jacket. The campus hummed with activity, students rushing between classes, some lounging on the grass in small groups, laughing and soaking in the fleeting warmth of the afternoon sun. Rody wasn’t paying much attention to any of it. His mind was elsewhere, caught in the tumult of thoughts that had been gnawing at him for weeks.

Across the lawn, his boyfriend—*ex* boyfriend, Rody corrected himself, the thought like a punch to the gut—sat at one of the picnic tables, laughing at something Richard had said. Vincent looked different now. He seemed lighter, more carefree, the bags under his eyes less pronounced, his usual stiff posture relaxed. The sight of him leaning into Richard, hanging off his arm with the same affectionate clinginess that had once been directed toward Rody, sent an uncomfortable pang through his chest.

He missed him. He missed *that*—the warmth, the closeness. But hadn’t it driven him crazy? Wasn’t it what had caused the fracture between them in the first place?

Rody shoved his hands into his pockets, his jaw clenched, forcing his gaze away. It had been nearly three months since they broke up, but it still felt raw. He remembered the way Vincent had pleaded with him that night in his apartment, tears in his black eyes, his voice low and choked with hurt.

“Rody, please—just tell me what’s wrong. I feel like you don’t want me around anymore.”

Rody had been unable to meet his gaze, his own voice caught somewhere between frustration and guilt. He had tried to explain, to tell Vincent that it wasn’t him—it was the stress from his part-time job, the mountain of assignments piling up, the deadlines that loomed over him like a cloud. But it had sounded hollow, even to his own ears. The truth was, Vincent’s constant need for affection, the way he always wanted to be near Rody, touching him, holding him, was suffocating. And Rody had no idea how to balance it all.

“You’re not listening,” Vincent had said, his voice barely above a whisper. His hands had trembled, fists tightening in the fabric of his sweater, a familiar black turtleneck that Rody used to think made him look impossibly elegant. But now, in that moment, all Rody could focus on was how he couldn’t give Vincent what he needed, not with everything else going on.

“I don’t know how to stop hurting you,” Rody had replied, staring at the floor. “I don’t mean to, but I can’t… I can’t handle all of this. You’re always there, Vincent. I don’t have any space to breathe.”

That had been the final blow, the one that shattered everything.

Vincent had left that night, quiet and composed on the outside, but Rody knew the damage had been done. He had wanted to fix things, to pull Vincent back, to tell him that he didn’t mean it like that. But he hadn’t. He had let him go, thinking maybe it was for the best.

But now, seeing Vincent laugh with Richard, the ache in Rody’s chest refused to fade. He had thought that after the breakup, he would feel free. That the weight of Vincent’s need for closeness would lift, and he would be able to focus on his studies and his job without the constant pressure of a relationship.

Instead, he just felt empty.

Richard was sitting too close to Vincent now, their thighs brushing, and Rody’s stomach twisted. He knew Richard well enough—he was popular, confident, the type who never seemed to struggle with anything. Of course, he’d know how to handle Vincent’s clinginess. Rody bit the inside of his cheek. He wondered if Richard even found Vincent’s neediness a problem, or if he welcomed it in a way Rody couldn’t.

It hadn’t always been like this. In the beginning, Rody had loved how affectionate Vincent was. His clinginess had been sweet, almost endearing. Vincent had a way of wrapping his arms around Rody’s waist, resting his head against Rody’s chest like he couldn’t get close enough. He’d murmur soft things, his voice barely audible but enough to make Rody’s heart stutter. At night, they would curl up in Vincent’s too-small bed, limbs tangled together, Vincent pressing soft kisses to the back of Rody’s neck.

But then, as his workload piled up, the hours he had to put in at his job stretched longer, and he started to feel the pressure building. Vincent’s touch, once a source of comfort, became a reminder of how much he was letting him down. He’d come home late, exhausted, and Vincent would be waiting with takeout, eager to talk about his day or to just hold Rody. But all Rody could think about was how little time he had for his assignments, how he needed space to unwind alone.

He hadn’t realized how much he had hurt Vincent by pulling away—by rejecting those moments that had meant so much to him. It was only after they broke up, after Vincent stopped texting and calling, that it hit him: Vincent had always been the one to reach out, to make the effort. And when Rody didn’t respond the way Vincent needed, it must’ve felt like rejection.

Now Vincent had found someone else. Someone who didn’t push him away.

Rody’s throat tightened as he watched them from a distance. He didn’t know how to fix what had gone wrong. He didn’t even know if he could. All he knew was that he missed Vincent, missed the way they used to be before everything became so complicated. He wanted to be the one making him smile like that again, to be the one Vincent leaned into when things got tough.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts. It was a message from a classmate about a project, but Rody barely glanced at it before stuffing the phone back into his pocket. He couldn’t focus on anything else right now. Not with Vincent sitting right there, just out of reach.

He took a deep breath, his hands shaking slightly. Maybe he should go over, try to talk to him. Apologize. But what would he even say? That he was sorry for being so distant? That he didn’t know how to balance everything and ended up pushing away the one person who cared about him more than anyone else?

Rody sighed and turned his back to the picnic table, his legs feeling like lead as he walked away. He wasn’t ready yet. Maybe he never would be.

But as he walked across the quad, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had made the biggest mistake of his life.

Rody’s footsteps echoed faintly on the concrete as he moved away from the quad, the laughter from Vincent and Richard still ringing in his ears. His heart thudded heavily in his chest, each beat a painful reminder of what he’d lost. He didn’t want to keep walking, didn’t want to let the moment slip away. Every step felt like putting more distance between himself and Vincent—distance that he might never be able to close again.

He stopped.

For a moment, Rody stood frozen, fists clenched in his pockets. He could feel the tension building in his shoulders, the familiar ache of regret gnawing at his insides. Maybe he wasn’t ready to face Vincent yet, but he couldn’t keep avoiding him forever. Not when seeing Vincent with someone else was like a knife twisting deeper into his gut with every glance.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Rody turned around and started walking back toward the picnic tables, his heart pounding faster with each step. He didn’t have a plan—he never did—but he couldn’t just keep letting things fall apart without trying.

As he approached, Vincent caught sight of him first, his dark eyes widening in surprise. Rody could see the brief flicker of emotion there—something like hope, but quickly masked by cool indifference. Richard followed Vincent’s gaze and turned, his smile fading slightly as he looked at Rody.

“Hey,” Rody said, his voice rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat. “Can we… talk?”

Vincent’s expression stayed neutral, though Rody could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the table. “I don’t know if there’s much left to say.”

Richard shifted uncomfortably, glancing between them. “I’ll give you guys some space.” He stood up, giving Vincent a reassuring pat on the shoulder before walking away, leaving them alone.

Rody watched him go, his stomach churning with a mixture of resentment and guilt. He knew it wasn’t Richard’s fault—it wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own. But it didn’t stop the jealousy from creeping in.

Once Richard was out of earshot, Rody sat down across from Vincent. For a few moments, they sat in silence, the awkward tension between them thick enough to cut with a knife. Vincent stared down at the table, his fingers tracing absent patterns on the wood.

“Vincent, I…” Rody began, but his words faltered. How could he explain it all now? How could he make Vincent understand what he hadn’t been able to say months ago?

“I miss you,” Rody finally admitted, his voice low.

Vincent’s fingers paused, but he didn’t look up. “I’m not your problem to miss anymore.”

Rody winced, the coldness in Vincent’s voice stinging more than he’d expected. “I know. But I do. I—I never wanted things to end like this.”

Vincent let out a short, bitter laugh. “Then why did they?”

Rody rubbed the back of his neck, frustration bubbling up in his chest. “I was under a lot of stress. Work, school, everything. I didn’t know how to handle it all, and I took it out on you. I pushed you away because I felt like I was drowning, and I didn’t know how to ask for help.”

Vincent finally looked up, his expression unreadable. “You didn’t push me away, Rody. You shut me out.”

Rody swallowed hard. “I know. I’m sorry.”

The apology hung in the air between them, fragile and raw. Vincent’s gaze softened, but the hurt still lingered in his eyes.

“I cared about you more than anything,” Vincent said quietly. “I would’ve done anything to help you, Rody. But you made me feel like I was a burden—like my wanting to be close to you was something you couldn’t stand.”

Rody felt his chest tighten. “It wasn’t like that. I… I didn’t mean for you to feel that way.”

“But you did,” Vincent said, his voice steady but tinged with sadness. “I can’t keep giving everything to someone who doesn’t want it.”

The words hit Rody harder than he expected, each one landing like a punch. He had wanted it—he’d wanted Vincent, but he hadn’t known how to deal with it. He hadn’t known how to handle someone who loved him so fiercely, who needed him in a way that scared him.

“I was scared,” Rody admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “You needed me in ways I didn’t know how to handle. I thought if I let you in any deeper, I’d lose myself.”

Vincent’s eyes flickered with something—understanding, maybe, or at least recognition of the fear Rody had buried so deep. But it wasn’t enough to undo the damage.

“I can’t change what happened,” Vincent said softly, “but I’ve moved on. Richard… he’s different. He doesn’t make me feel like I’m too much.”

Rody’s heart sank. The pain of seeing Vincent with Richard, of knowing that someone else was filling the space Rody had left empty, felt unbearable. He wanted to tell Vincent that he *wasn’t* too much, that he’d made a mistake by letting him go. But the words caught in his throat.

“I didn’t want to make you feel that way,” Rody said, his voice thick. “I know I screwed up. But I miss you, Vincent. More than I can even explain.”

Vincent’s expression softened, but there was a distance in his gaze now, a line that Rody had crossed too many times.

“I miss you too,” Vincent said quietly, “but missing each other doesn’t change what we need. I need someone who wants me around. Someone who doesn’t make me feel like I’m asking for too much.”

Rody’s throat tightened. “I can be that for you. I just didn’t know how before, but I can try—”

Vincent shook his head, cutting him off gently. “I don’t want you to *try* to want me, Rody. I want someone who does, without having to force it.”

The finality in Vincent’s voice crushed any hope Rody had been clinging to. He had lost him, truly lost him this time. There was no going back.

Rody sat there, his heart heavy, the silence between them filled with everything they could never be again.