Jayden walked the same cracked sidewalk he took every day, slower than usual, backpack half-zipped, hands shoved into his hoodie like they could hide him from the world. The streets were quiet, touched by orange dusk, but inside his chest? Chaos.
He was just... drifting. Hoodie still on. The glittery "Her Boy" lettering caught the dying sun like a curse stamped on his chest. He didn't care anymore. Let them laugh. Let them stare.
He kept replaying it. Her voice, her face, the crowd, that damn sentence.
"You believed them. That's on you."
His throat tightened again. He hadn't even taken the hoodie off. The glitter lettering was flaking at the edges. He looked like a walking meme. A punchline. A joke trying to be human.
So when the familiar voices echoed from the corner alley near the liquor store, he should've turned back. But he didn't. Maybe part of him was too numb to care.
When the voices started behind him—laughing, sharp, too familiar—he didn't even flinch. He knew it was coming. Maybe part of him wanted it. Tyler's laugh was the first thing he heard. Low, cocky, always like he was laughing at the world. And Jayden had walked right into it.
"Well, well…" Tyler grinned as he stepped into the streetlight. "If it isn't the Love Doctor himself. Where's your bear, Casanova?"
The other guys—Aiden, Marko, and Rashawn—snickered behind him. Like backup dancers from a music video no one asked for.
"Yo! Loverboy!" Marko's voice punched the air like a slap. "Didn't your mommy tell you not to walk through our block looking like a rejected prom poster?"
Jayden didn't speak. He just lowered his gaze and kept walking. Shoulders hunched.
Bad move.
Marko stepped forward and shouldered him, hard. Jayden stumbled, but stayed up. Aiden didn't give him a second chance. He shoved Jayden in the back—full force. He hit the sidewalk hard, knees scraping open on asphalt.
"Damn," Aiden laughed. "That hoodie came with kneepads?"
Jayden pushed up, breathing shaky. "I'm not in the mood."
"Good," Tyler said, stepping forward. "Because we are."
Without warning, he grabbed Jayden by the hood, yanked him backward, and slammed him against the chain-link fence. The metal rattled.
A shock of pain ran through Jayden's back, his hunched spine felt like it might break. He hissed.
"Thought you'd steal my girl with poems and plushies, huh? You really thought she'd choose you over me?"
"She kissed you while we were still together," Jayden muttered.
Tyler's smirk dropped.
Then the punch landed.
Jaw. Sharp. Fast. Jayden's head snapped to the side. Blood hit his tongue. Luckily for Jayden this wasn't the first time he tasted his own blood.
How long has this been going on? Didn't remember but more than ten times. He stood up.
"She kissed me," Tyler said, "because she wanted to. Because she was done babysitting."
Normally, Jayden didn't fall.
So they made him.
Rashawn tripped him as Tyler pushed. He hit the ground, hard. Knees and palms scraped raw. Another boot slammed into his ribs. Then another. Then the laughter got mean.
"You still got that hoodie on? Damn. She humiliated you, and you're still repping her like a sponsor. You're either loyal… or just stupid."
Jayden clenched his jaw. "Leave me alone."
"Ohhh," Aiden mocked. "He's got a voice now."
Tyler stepped closer, circling him like a lion. "You thought the teddy bear would win her back? That little monologue? Bro, she was already in my bed two days ago."
Jayden's fists curled, but he didn't move. Couldn't. His body felt heavy. Not with fear—just… exhaustion.
Marko suddenly shoved him from behind.
Jayden stumbled.
"C'mon, man," Rashawn laughed. "Don't be shy. You were all confident at school. Let's hear another poem. Want us to get you a mic?"
"Yeah, you should write a poem about this," Marko said.
"Yeah—'Roses are red, my teeth are too...'" Aiden laughed.
He tried again to walk, but Tyler grabbed his shoulder, yanking him back.
"Look at me, Jayden."
Jayden lifted his eyes. They burned.
"She never loved you," Tyler said, voice suddenly low and serious. "She pitied you. You were a side quest. A charity case. You thought she was yours?"
And that's when Jayden snapped. He swung.
It didn't land.
Tyler caught his wrist midair and, with one smooth motion, drove his knee into Jayden's gut.
He crumpled.
The others stepped in. Kicks. Shoves. Nothing too crazy—but just enough to hurt. Just enough to remind him he wasn't allowed to fight back.
Tyler knelt beside him, ripped the hoodie open at the collar. "This thing's a joke. 'Her Boy?' Bitch, she's not even your memory."
He spit on the glitter letters.
Jayden flinched but said nothing.
Because there was nothing left to say.
Marko pulled out his phone. "Yo, hold him down. Let's get him to say 'I'm a simp' on video. Make him our mascot."
Rashawn grabbed his wrist. Aiden held his shoulder.
Tyler crouched and shoved the phone in his face. "Say it. Say you're a broke-ass, simp-ass, ex-boyfriend turned comedy content."
Jayden looked into the camera, blood on his lip, dirt on his face, and hate brewing behind his silence.
He didn't say a word.
"Y'all one day will pay!" But he swore inside!
Then a bottle cracked beside his ear—someone had smashed it on the fence just to scare him. Laughter followed. Even Tyler laughed like it was the best scene they'd ever filmed.
Across the street, hidden in the shadows behind a broken fence panel, Amara watched.
She didn't flinch. Didn't cry. Didn't record.
She just stared.
Her eyes didn't hold pity. Not even sympathy.
Just something cold.
And still on the ground, aching in every limb, with their laughter fading behind him, Jayden just stared at the cracked pavement—face bloodied, heart hollow.
And all he could think was:
This can't be it.
This can't be how I end.
Not like this.
Not as their joke.
They left him bloody, coughing in the dust, shoes scuffed, and hoodie half-ripped.
Every part of him ached, but it wasn't the pain that really stayed—it was the humiliation. The way they laughed. The way Tyler got in his face like he owned the moment.
The way nobody helped.
Every second was already playing back in his mind like a movie he never agreed to be in. He didn't need to check online; he was sure he was already a meme. Simp of the Year. Human punchline. Maybe trending by midnight.
He walked home half-limping, hoodie clinging to his cuts, blood drying against the fabric. His knuckles were torn, his ribs throbbed, and his vision kept blurring at the edges. He didn't care. There was nothing left to care about.
Every step felt mechanical, like his body moved only because it was too stubborn to collapse in public again. He barely remembered unlocking the door. Didn't head to the bathroom.
Didn't look in a mirror. He just went straight to his room and fell into bed face-first, letting the dirt and blood stain his sheets.
He didn't speak loud, didn't cry. He just whispered to no one, voice low and broken:
"I wanna end me."
And then, without another thought, too exhausted to feel, too full of thoughts to focus on even one of them, he drifted into sleep.
The world didn't fade into darkness.
It dragged him down.
And Jayden slept.
Not peacefully.
But completely.
Because even pain runs out of energy eventually.
But then...
[Ding!]