Page 72 of That's Too Pucking Bad

I blink, my mouth going dry. “You… what?”

“I don’t think it’s working,” he repeats, almost like he’s convincing himself too. “We’ve been at this funk for, what, two years now? And I feel like I’m constantly chasing you, trying to make this work, trying to be enough.”

“Enough?” I echo, something like guilt twisting in my chest. “Colin, you are enough, it’s just—”

“No,” he interrupts again, holding up a hand. “No, Remy, I don’t think I am. I mean, come on, how often do we even see each other anymore? You’re always off doing your own thing, and when we do hang out, it’s like you’re not even here. You’re checked out.”

I swallow, looking down at the table, tracing the edge of my mug. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” He leans back, crossing his arms. “Be honest with me, Remy. When’s the last time you really wanted to be with me? And I don’t mean, like, just out of convenience. I mean actuallywantedto be with me.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the words get stuck. He’s not wrong. I’ve been drifting, not fully committed, and yeah… maybe I’ve been hiding from him, hiding from this.

He takes my silence as confirmation. “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about. I’ve been holding onto something that’s not there. I think… I think I’ve been holding onto the idea of you more than the reality.”

My throat tightens. “So, what are you saying? You’re breaking up with me?”

“Yeah,” he says, almost softly, like he’s realizing it himself. “Yeah, I am.”

I sit there, numb, staring at him, my mind trying to catch up. It’s not like I didn’t see this coming; I knew things were rough, but this? Hearing him say it out loud? It’s a punch to the gut.

“But we’ve been through so much, Colin,” I say, my voice coming out shaky. “I mean, we’ve had good times, right? It’s not like we haven’t–”

“Yeah, we have,” he agrees, his voice softer now. “But good times aren’t enough, Remy. You know that. I can’t keep pretending that things are fine when they’re not. And honestly?” He looks down, letting out a long breath. “I think you know it too. You just don’t want to admit it.”

I bite my lip, guilt gnawing at me. Because he’s right. I have known, I just didn’t want to face it. “So, this is it, then?”

He nods, not meeting my eyes. “I think it’s better for both of us if we let go now. Before we end up hating each other.”

Something in me snaps, and suddenly I’m angry. “So that’s it? You just made this decision without even talking to me about it? Without even giving us a chance to fix it?”

“Fix it?” He laughs, but it’s humorless. “Remy, I’ve been trying to fix it for months. I can’t keep doing this, pretending that we’re happy when we’re not. It’s not fair to me, and it’s definitely not fair to you.”

“Not fair to me?” I snap, my voice louder now. “So, you just decide for both of us? That’s pretty damn selfish, don’t you think?”

He sighs, rubbing his temples. “Maybe it is. But I think we’re past the point of trying to be fair, don’t you? This isn’t about being fair, Remy. This is about being honest. And honestly?” He looks at me, finally, his eyes tired. “I think you’ll be relieved.”

“Relieved?” I echo, heat rising to my cheeks. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means,” he says, his voice low.

I stare at him, my heart pounding, and it’s like all the excuses I’ve been telling myself come crashing down. He’s right. I’ve been lying to myself, pretending that I care, pretending that I’m fully invested in this when I’m not. And maybe part of meisrelieved. But that realization just makes me feel like an even bigger asshole.

“So, what now?” I ask, my voice quiet. “We just… what, go our separate ways?”

He shrugs, looking defeated. “I guess so. I mean, I don’t know what else there is to say.”

There’s a long silence, both of us just sitting there, letting the weight of his words sink in. I want to be angry, I want to fight him on this, but deep down, I know he’s right. We’ve been holding onto something that hasn’t felt real in a long time. Andnow, standing on the edge of it, I feel this weird mixture of sadness and relief.

“Are you…” I hesitate, not sure if I even want to know the answer. “Are you going to be okay?”

He gives me a sad smile. “Yeah, I think so. Eventually.”

I nod, looking down at my hands, and for a second, I want to reach out, to hold onto him one last time. But I don’t. Because I know that would just make it harder.

We sit there in silence for a few more moments, both of us lost in our own thoughts. Finally, he stands up, grabbing his jacket.

“Well,” he says, clearing his throat. “Guess this is goodbye, then.”

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