“I found my ex hanging from a belt last winter.” My eyes widen as my head snaps up. “I don’t know if ex is the right term...” he goes on to say, a frown burrowing in deep between his eyes. Eyes normally so blue, that now appear duller, almost lifeless, as they wander aimlessly over the horizon. “But it’s not like I can still call him my boyfriend when he’s dead.” This time, it’s me whispering his name. He forces a laugh as he turns to face me, and the awful, broken sound of it reaches in and resonates with some deep, uncharted part of me. “How fucked is that?”
