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Vincent Charbonneau sat on the steps outside their high school, hands trembling as he flicked open his lighter, watching the tiny flame dance before snuffing it out. His cigarette, half-forgotten between his fingers, burned to ash. The late afternoon sun was dipping, casting long shadows over the pavement, mirroring the gnawing emptiness inside him.
It had been another day of enduring the sight of Rody and Manon together, laughing, whispering, and sharing the sort of closeness he had once shared with Rody. But those days seemed distant now, replaced by the cruel reality of Rody’s indifference. Every time he saw them together, it felt like a knife twisting in his chest-a bitter reminder of how he had been left behind.
Vincent had tried to be understanding, had tried to accept Rody’s feelings for Manon. But it was impossible. How could he, when every fiber of his being ached for Rody in ways that went far beyond friendship?
Rody had been his anchor, his one source of light in a life otherwise filled with darkness. Growing up in poverty, with a mother who died too soon and a father who never knew how to love-Vincent had clung to Rody like a lifeline. But now, that lifeline was slipping away, and Vincent was drowning.
The first time Vincent confessed to Rody, he had done it with trembling hands and a heart that felt like it would burst. But Rody, with his bright smile and unassuming nature, had let him down gently.
“Vin, I… I like you too, but not like that,” Rody had said, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “I just… I like Manon, you know?”
And Vincent had nodded, even though it felt like his world was shattering.
Of course, it was Manon. It had always been Manon. She was everything Vincent wasn’t-warm, kind, and effortlessly charming. Vincent couldn’t blame Rody for falling for her. But he could hate her for taking Rody away from him, for making him feel so desperately alone.
A burst of laughter broke through Vincent’s thoughts. He looked up to see Rody and Manon walking out of the school together, their arms brushing as they shared some joke. Rody’s eyes were bright, his smile wide-something Vincent hadn’t seen directed at him in a long time.
A bitter taste filled Vincent’s mouth as he took a drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling up into the cold air. He wanted to scream, to tell Rody how much it hurt, how much he needed him. But every time he tried, the words stuck in his throat.
Rody caught sight of Vincent and waved, but there was a distance in his eyes, a casualness that hadn’t been there before. “Hey, Vin,” he called out as they approached. “What’s up?”
Vincent forced a smile, masking the turmoil within. “Nothing much. Just… waiting for my ride.”
“Mind if we hang out later? I was thinking we could go to the arcade,” Rody suggested, his tone friendly but distant. But then, as if remembering something, he added, “Oh, but I promised Manon I’d help her with that history project tonight. Maybe tomorrow?”
Tomorrow. It was always tomorrow.
Vincent’s smile faltered for just a moment. “Yeah, sure. Tomorrow.”
Manon glanced at Vincent, her gaze soft but wary. She had always been kind to him, but he could see the unease in her eyes-the way she sensed his growing resentment.
Rody seemed oblivious, as usual. He was too busy joking with Manon, too wrapped up in his own world to notice the storm brewing within Vincent.
They chatted for a few more minutes before Rody and Manon said their goodbyes and headed off, leaving Vincent alone on the steps once more. He watched them go, feeling the familiar ache of loss in his chest.
As the sun dipped lower, Vincent felt the last of his resolve crumble. He couldn’t keep pretending that everything was okay, that he didn’t care. He couldn’t stand being second to Manon any longer.
When he got home that evening, the house was silent except for the creak of the floorboards beneath his feet. His father was out-probably at the bar, drowning whatever sorrows he had. The emptiness of the house weighed heavily on Vincent, amplifying the void in his heart.
He went to his room and closed the door, sliding down against it as tears began to well up in his eyes. He was tired-so tired of fighting, of pretending, of hoping that maybe, just maybe, Rody would see him the way he wanted to be seen.
Vincent pulled out his phone, his fingers hovering over Rody’s contact. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew that calling Rody now would only lead to more pain, more disappointment. But he was desperate-desperate for any connection, for any sign that Rody still cared.
He hit call.
The phone rang once, twice, three times, before Rody picked up. “Vin? What’s up?”
Vincent hesitated, his voice catching in his throat. “I… I need to talk to you.”
“Sure, man. What’s going on?” Rody’s voice was concerned now, but Vincent could hear the faint sound of Manon’s laughter in the background, like a ghost haunting the line.
Vincent bit back the bitterness rising in his throat. “Can you come over? Please. It’s… it’s important.”
There was a pause, a hesitation. “Uh… now?”
“Please, Rody. I really need you.”
Another pause, longer this time. Then, finally, Rody sighed. “Okay, I’ll be there in a bit.”
Vincent hung up, relief and dread warring within him. He didn’t know what he was going to say, how he was going to make Rody understand. But he couldn’t keep it in any longer.
When Rody arrived, he found Vincent sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at the floor. Rody’s brow furrowed with concern as he walked in, closing the door behind him. “Vin, you look like hell. What’s going on?”
Vincent looked up at him, his eyes red-rimmed and hollow. “I can’t do this anymore, Rody.”
Rody frowned, stepping closer. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t keep pretending that everything’s okay, that I’m okay. I’m not, Rody. I’m not okay.” Vincent’s voice cracked, the weight of his words dragging him down.
Rody sat down beside him, his expression softening. “Hey… it’s okay. You can talk to me.”
Vincent shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Can I? Because it feels like you’re never really here, Rody. You’re always with her.”
Rody blinked, taken aback. “Vincent, Manon and I-“
“Don’t.” Vincent’s voice was sharp, cutting Rody off. “I don’t want to hear about her. I don’t want to hear how much you care about her, how much you love her. Because every time you talk about her, it feels like you’re driving a knife deeper into my chest.”
Rody stared at him, confusion and guilt warring on his face. “Vin, I didn’t know…”
“How could you?” Vincent’s voice was low, pained. “You’re too busy with her to notice what’s happening to me, how much I’m falling apart.”
“Vincent, I…” Rody reached out, but Vincent pulled away, shaking his head.
“I love you, Rody,” Vincent whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. But you… you only see me as a friend, as some second choice. And it’s killing me.”
Rody was silent, his eyes wide with shock. “Vin, I… I care about you. I really do. But-“
“But you love her,” Vincent finished for him, the words tasting like ash in his mouth.
Rody’s silence was answer enough.
Vincent closed his eyes, feeling the tears spill over. “I can’t keep doing this, Rody. I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay with being just your friend. Because I’m not. I’m not okay.”
The room was silent, the weight of Vincent’s confession hanging between them like a dark cloud.
“I’m sorry, Vin,” Rody finally said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”
Vincent opened his eyes, looking at Rody with a hollow gaze. “I don’t want your pity, Rody. I just… I just want you to understand.”
“I do, Vin. I understand.” Rody’s voice was soft, full of regret. “I just wish I could… I wish I could make it better.”
But they both knew he couldn’t.
Vincent nodded, his heart aching with a pain that words couldn’t begin to describe. “Yeah. Me too.”
Rody sat with him for a long time, neither of them speaking, the silence between them thick with unspoken words and unresolved feelings. Eventually, Rody had to leave, and Vincent was left alone in the darkness once more, the shadows of his life closing in around him.
As he lay in bed that night, Vincent couldn’t help but wonder if things would have been different if he had never met Manon, if Rody had never fallen for her. But those thoughts were just fantasies, cruel illusions that only deepened his despair.
Because in the end, Vincent knew that he would always be in the shadows-forever the years, Vincent remained caught in a liminal space, forever tethered to a love that could never be fully reciprocated. He drifted through the days, a ghost haunting the edges of Rody’s life, never fully there, yet never entirely gone.
Their friendship continued, strained but not broken. Rody tried to include Vincent more, sensing the undercurrent of pain and loneliness in his friend, but the gap between them had grown too wide, and Vincent couldn’t bear the constant reminder of what he could never have.
Rody and Manon’s relationship blossomed, much to Vincent’s quiet despair. They were inseparable, the golden couple of their school, while Vincent was relegated to the role of a supportive friend, his feelings buried beneath layers of forced smiles and hollow laughter.
Manon, perhaps sensing Vincent’s anguish, made attempts to reach out to him, to draw him into their circle, but it only fueled his resentment. Every kind gesture, every warm smile from her felt like salt in the wound. How could she not see that she was the reason for his suffering? How could Rody be so blind to the agony she caused him?
Vincent’s life at home grew darker. His father’s abuse escalated, the man’s anger often turning physical. Vincent bore the bruises and scars without complaint, using them as armor against the pain inside. The only solace he found was in his studies, where he buried himself in books and the pursuit of a future far away from the hell that had become his life.
But even his academic success was a double-edged sword. Each achievement, each accolade, was met with indifference from Rody, who was too preoccupied with his own life to notice the brilliance in his best friend. The accolades meant nothing without Rody’s recognition, without his love.
One night, Vincent found himself wandering the empty streets after yet another argument with his father. He had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. The world felt suffocating, like a noose tightening around his neck.
His feet led him to a familiar house, one he had visited countless times as a child. Rody’s house. The lights were on, and through the window, he could see Rody and Manon inside, laughing together as they shared a pizza. The sight filled Vincent with a sickening mixture of envy and longing.
He should have walked away, should have turned back and retreated to the safety of his own home, but something inside him snapped. Before he knew it, he was knocking on the door, his heart pounding in his chest.
Rody answered, surprise and concern flickering across his face when he saw Vincent. “Vin? What are you doing here? It’s late.”
“I just… I needed to see you,” Vincent said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Rody hesitated, glancing back at Manon before stepping outside and closing the door behind him. “Is everything okay? You look… rough.”
Vincent forced a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m fine. I just… I wanted to talk.”
“Sure, man. We can talk,” Rody said, his tone gentle. “But maybe we should do it tomorrow? Manon’s here, and-“
Vincent cut him off, his voice sharp. “Why is it always tomorrow with you, Rody? Why am I always second to her?”
Rody blinked, taken aback by the intensity in Vincent’s voice. “Vin, it’s not like that. Manon’s-“
“She’s always there!” Vincent’s voice cracked with the weight of his emotions. “She’s always the one you choose. I’m sick of it, Rody. I’m sick of being the one left behind.”
“Vincent, please, calm down,” Rody said, his tone soothing, but Vincent could hear the impatience creeping in. “You’re my friend, and I care about you, but I can’t just drop everything-“
“Yes, you can!” Vincent snapped, his hands shaking. “But you won’t. You never do.”
Rody sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Vin, this isn’t fair. You know how much I care about you, but I care about Manon too. I can’t just choose between you two.”
“Why not?” Vincent’s voice was pleading now, desperate. “Why can’t you choose me, just once?”
Rody was silent, his expression pained. “Vin…”
“I can’t keep doing this, Rody,” Vincent said, his voice trembling. “I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay with being second best. Because I’m not. I can’t live like this anymore.”
Rody reached out to him, his hand hovering uncertainly before pulling back. “I don’t want to lose you, Vin.”
“You already have,” Vincent whispered, the realization hitting him like a punch to the gut. “I think you lost me a long time ago.”
The silence between them was heavy, filled with all the words they could never say, all the emotions they could never express. In that moment, Vincent realized that no matter how much he loved Rody, no matter how deep his feelings ran, he would always be a shadow in Rody’s life, never the light.
“I have to go,” Vincent said, his voice hollow as he turned to leave.
“Vincent, wait,” Rody called after him, but Vincent didn’t stop. He couldn’t.
He walked away, feeling the weight of his decision settle over him like a shroud. He didn’t look back, even when he heard the door open and Manon’s concerned voice asking Rody what had happened.
As Vincent disappeared into the night, he knew that something fundamental had changed between them. Their friendship, once so strong, had been irreparably damaged, leaving Vincent more alone than ever before.
But perhaps that was the way it was meant to be. Perhaps Vincent was destined to be alone, forever yearning for something he could never have, forever haunted by the shadows of what could have been.
And as he walked home, the empty streets echoing his footsteps, Vincent felt a cold certainty settle over him: Rody would never choose him, and he would have to learn to live with that.
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