The end came in the form of a cake.

It was early afternoon, and I'd found myself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to find the clarity that rang true in my heart just last night.

But it wasn't there; all the parts of me that wanted this—him—had returned, swallowing up any strand of clear thinking I'd possessed. And I couldn't live with that.

Three soft knocks echoed throughout the apartment, and I fumbled to my feet, wondering what he'd popped by for so early in the day.

We were two people who only operated from one five o' clock to the next; afternoons just weren't our thing. When I'd opened the door, I'd hoped that that would change.

I guess love does make us blind.

I opened the door, a smile already prepared for him. It wasn't him, though; a tall woman stood at the door, a cake in her hands, and her two kids standing at her feet.

"My kids have heard you crying," she whispered, handing the cake over. "So we all baked this for you. I hope you feel better soon."

"Thank you," I replied, smiling down at the children as well. They returned the gesture, waving before they scurried away. Their mother nodded at me once more, her earthy skin gleaming beautifully in the dull light, and strolled away, the kids dancing around her as she did.

Shutting the door, I smiled, taking the cake in. It was covered in white icing, and the words were written in blue, along with a yellow sun that rested at the top right corner.

Happiness is just around the corner. You were around ours.

And he was supposed to be around mine, and yet, here I was; eating the cake my neighbours had baked for me, when the boy who shuddered outside that door had failed to lift my heart up when I so desperately needed him too.

Sighing, I set the cake down and cut two large slices for myself.

There was something in the children's eyes, something I hadn't seen in his for a very, very long time.

Excitement.

And from the lazy nights that I always had to clean up after, to the mornings that left the kitchen in a mess, I was far from excited.

I wanted to go home. A while ago, that would been crashing into his arms, and letting myself fall apart there, but that had changed.

I'd have to cry into my own arms from now on.

*

He didn't show up, that night.

I lay in bed, the night seeping through the windows, the moon's soft, comforting glow filling the room with the light that he'd snuffed out with his presence.

Where is he? I'd wondered, my eyes shut, as I thrashed between the sheets, hoping the hurricane in my mind pour all of its worries into the nothingness behind my eyelids. Why isn't he here?

Why did I care? Why was I spending my nights feigning sleep, filling my head with worst-case scenarios for someone who didn't find it necessary to call before he didn't show up, or text before he ran out of luck? Why couldn't I just sleep?

But the answer never came. And, some part of me didn't want it to—shutting my eyes and not caring would ring the bell of finality on whatever we had, and I'd grown so used to having him to keep me warm that a night without him sent chills up and down my spine.

I guess I'd have to get used to those, too.

xxx

dedicated to mars, for always being there. if we were anything other than human, you'd be the rock, and i'd be the algae that grows on you.