I'm sorry. I know it's been ages and this one's so short, but it was easily the most difficult chapter thus far. Not sure how I feel about it, but I hope you enjoy.
A man walks into a bar, into the opening line of some sick, cosmic joke.
"So I'm...I'm responsible for..." Words catch on a lump in his throat, strangled by the tightness in his chest.
"Excellent. Excellent. Excellent." Skipping like a scratched cd, the wires all crossed. Something in the information short circuits his brain.
The sting of their high-five like a slap across the face. Ted, holding the greatest thing he never had. Again. And it's all his fault. An empty suit and a halfhearted smile. Impenetrable armor. Protecting his broken heart. It's painfully ironic, almost laughable. And he would if he could but he can't. He can't even breathe.
It slips out. Hollow and spent, too tired to hold it in any longer.
"I love you." And it's true. Has to be. It hurts too much to be anything else.
"Exactly. He's not like you, you know. Besides, we're friends. I don't want to screw that up by getting involved. Dating friends never works out."
Misery framed in the doorway. Mocking silence laced with bitter laughter, a sick joke at his expense. That's one hell of a punch line.