It was nearly midnight in Andrew and Daniel's apartment. The lights were low, the vibe was soft, and the Spotify queue was still deep in its "Healing Taylor Swift Ballad" phase. Empty mugs sat forgotten on the coffee table—Daniel's had once held chamomile tea with two honey packets; Andrew's had hosted the last scoop of mint chip ice cream because he swore dairy helped with emotional processing.

The record player had been put to rest earlier after an evening of vinyl glory. Now it was Bluetooth speaker mode, their "Rainy Taylor Swift Night" playlist shuffling gently in the background. Daniel lay stretched across the couch like a cat with unresolved feelings, while Andrew was curled into one end of the loveseat, hoodie up, arms around a throw pillow as if it contained emotional stability.

The next song started.

Low. Haunting. Echoed reverb like a cathedral made of grief.

"my tears ricochet"

Daniel looked up slowly. "Oh."

Andrew didn't speak at first. His eyes just dropped to his knees.

Taylor's voice bled into the room like a soft wail:

"I didn't have it in myself to go with grace…"

Daniel leaned his head back, exhaling. "This one always gets me."

Andrew finally said, voice quiet, "Me too."

They sat with it for a moment. The rise and fall of the melody felt like walking through memories barefoot—painful, familiar, delicate.

Daniel broke the silence first. "This one makes me think of Jesse."

Andrew turned to look at him. "Who's Jesse?"

Daniel stared at the ceiling, as if the name itself had painted something invisible up there. "My best friend growing up. We met in second grade. Played tag during recess, traded Pokémon cards, went to the same summer camp every year until middle school."

He smiled faintly. "He once helped me build a makeshift treehouse out of cardboard and hope. I thought we were gonna be friends forever."

Andrew said nothing, sensing this was one of those let it out moments.

Daniel sighed. "Then high school happened. He moved to the other side of the state. We texted. Called. For a while. Then less. Then... nothing. I tried reaching out a few times. But he didn't."

Andrew's expression softened. "I'm sorry."

"I used to blame myself," Daniel said, voice thin. "Maybe I wasn't exciting enough to keep around. Maybe he found better friends. Or maybe I just reminded him of a version of himself he outgrew."

Andrew looked down at the pillow in his lap. "Yeah. I know that feeling."

Daniel turned. "Yeah?"

Andrew nodded. "My ex-best friend. Trevor. We were basically inseparable in high school. Study buddies. Late-night chat guys. We even made up dumb songs to remember physics formulas."

Daniel blinked. "Okay, that's... deeply nerdy and endearing."

Andrew smiled weakly. "He helped me through some rough stuff with my dad. And I helped him through his breakup sophomore year. We were... solid. I thought."

Daniel waited.

"But he started hanging out with this other crowd—louder, cooler, messier. And I was too quiet. Too careful. He stopped replying to texts. Ghosted me during finals. One day, I caught him laughing with them about something I said in class. Something personal."

Daniel winced. "Damn."

Andrew nodded. "That was the moment it cracked. I realized he didn't even think about how it would land. He just... let me ricochet."

They fell silent as the chorus rose again:

"If I'm dead to you, why are you at the wake? / Cursing my name, wishing I stayed…"

Daniel whispered, "God, that lyric hits like a freight train."

"Because it's the exact kind of pain no one talks about," Andrew said. "Friendship grief. When it ends not with a fight, but with fading. Or betrayal. Or silence."

Daniel glanced over. "Do you ever wish you could talk to him again? Trevor?"

Andrew shrugged. "Sometimes. But I don't think I want him back. I just want to understand what happened. Why I wasn't worth the effort."

Daniel didn't hesitate. "You are worth the effort. That's on him, not you."

Andrew blinked at him, grateful but still a little raw.

Daniel smiled, softer now. "And look, I'm not saying I can replace Jesse or Trevor or any of that... but I am saying I've emotionally committed to this bromance."

Andrew chuckled. "I mean, you did buy matching sofa pillows with me. That's legally binding, I think."

Daniel grinned. "And you showed me your secret guitar talent. That's peak trust."

They sat back, the final notes of my tears ricochet echoing in the stillness of their apartment.

Andrew whispered, "Hey... thanks for staying. For sticking around. I know I say that a lot, but I mean it."

Daniel gave him a gentle nudge with his foot. "You're stuck with me, Clarke. Ghost towns couldn't break us. Sad Taylor songs can't either."

Andrew smiled. "Deal."

They let the silence sit a bit longer, neither one reaching for the remote, content to let the next song surprise them.

Because yeah—some friendships burn. Some fade. Some ricochet.

But the ones that stay?

They're the lucky ones.