Boyfriend: The

Alex smiled, and was surprised to find it didn’t hurt. “Good. I’m glad.”

Sam’s shoulders dropped. “You’re not angry?”

“Try.”

“Talk to me,” Alex said one evening, sitting on the edge of Sam’s couch. The rain drummed against the glass, steady and insistent. The Boyfriend

Sam nodded, but his eyes were wet. “I’m sorry.”

Sam laughed—the real laugh, full and warm. “You always were too reasonable.”

“I’m seeing someone new,” Sam blurted, then winced. “Sorry, that’s—I didn’t mean to just—” Alex smiled, and was surprised to find it didn’t hurt

He closed the door softly behind him.

“I was,” Alex admitted. “But I think you were right. We were good for a while, and then we weren’t. That’s not a crime.”

Alex wanted to argue, to list all the reasons Sam was wrong. But he’d felt it too, hadn’t he? That subtle distance, like standing on opposite sides of a door that was slowly closing. “You’re not angry

Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing changed. That’s the problem. I kept waiting to feel… more. And I don’t.” He finally looked at Alex—really looked. “You’re kind, and funny, and you remember how I take my coffee. You deserve someone who wakes up excited to see you. I wake up feeling guilty.”

Alex had been dating Sam for eight months when he first noticed the crack. It wasn’t in the ceiling or the foundation of his apartment—it was in Sam’s laugh. That familiar, warm sound that used to fill the room now had a thin, hollow ring to it, like a bell with a hidden flaw.