They never should have happened, never should have looked at each other that way; they knew that, but told themselves that they didn’t care, that what they felt for one another was worth the risk. Fuck what anyone else thinks. But they still kept it secret, hid their passion in the shadows and the after hours. From the first drunken night—when the what if that had lurked in the back of their minds for years was finally answered— to the night they finally got caught fucking in the bathroom at Bookends, their affair grew more and more dangerous as they realised they liked the risk, thrived off of it. The fact that their desire could burn their entire world down only made them hotter for each other. But then, one bathroom stall door hastily shut and left unlocked swung open with a gasp they recognised and extinguished their fire in an instant. Faced with the barrage of insults and tears, their apologies swiped away, it became clear to them that they’d been kidding themselves, that they did care what everyone else thought, more than they cared about saving whatever it was they were doing. They never should have happened and now they couldn’t look at each other the same way again.
break ups is a series of really short fictions I’ve been working on sporadically for a few years whenever an idea strikes and this is the latest one which will hopefully spark some more.
- NUCOSI