Leaving Before The Final Encore

A message from Reuben buzzed through almost immediately.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

It meant we were breaking up. Isn't it obvious?

I couldn't be bothered to explain. I blocked him on everything and left the Discord group that had been mocking me.

By the time I looked up again, the taxi had arrived at the apartment building we shared.

Reuben didn't come home that night. No doubt he'd returned to the 'performance' I had so rudely interrupted.

With that thought, I started packing.

While sorting through my things, I found a sketch tucked under my drawing board.

It was a tattoo design I'd created for Reuben—a unique symbol that blended our first initials, something that belonged only to us.

I had spent ages drawing it, and when he saw it, his eyes had lit up as he'd spun me around in his arms.

I stared at the sketch for what felt like hours, watching as the sky outside my window slowly bruised from dusk to dark.

Then, I stuffed the drawing into the very bottom of my suitcase and zipped it shut.

I sat on the floor, looking around the small apartment we had lived in for over two years, and memories flooded back.

Reuben and I didn't officially get together until the second semester of our freshman year.

I was volunteering backstage at the university arts festival the first time I saw him dance.

He was gorgeous, came from money, and was the undisputed king of the campus street dance scene. Every move he made pulsed with a raw, untamed energy that made him the unavoidable center of gravity in any room.

And I was just an anonymous student from the art department. The boldest thing I had ever done was fill my sketchbook with drawings of him in motion.

We were worlds apart.

After the festival, I was pinning up posters on the bulletin board outside the library when a skateboard nearly clipped my ankles.

The thumbtacks in my hand scattered across the ground. I quickly bent down to pick them up when a voice came from above.

"Thea?"

I looked up and saw Reuben standing there, silhouetted against the light. He wore a simple black hoodie, his features sharp and achingly handsome.

He actually knew my name.

I was so stunned I couldn't speak. He had already knelt down to help me.

"You're Thea Bishop from the art department, right?" he asked. "You designed the promo posters for the festival. I remember them."

My heart hammered against my ribs. I could only manage a nod.

Reuben helped me pick up the rest of the tacks and asked where I was headed. Along the way, he chatted easily about funny moments from the festival and my poster design, his tone familiar and natural.

When we reached the art department building, he handed the tacks back to me and smiled.

"I'll be seeing you around. We should be friends."

I clutched my phone, watching his back as he skated away, my palms already slick with sweat.

From that day on, he really did start showing up at the art department more often.

At first, it was just a casual greeting when he passed by. Then he started bringing me coffee while I painted. Later, he would sit beside me, watching me work for a whole afternoon.

Reuben wasn't the type to sit still. Most of the time, he'd have his headphones on, listening to music, his body subtly moving to the rhythm.

I would paint and steal glances at him, a sweet, aching feeling filling my chest.

On New Year's Eve, the university organized a bonfire party.

The crowd was a roaring, joyful mess, the music deafening.

I was chatting with a friend when a space was suddenly cleared up front, drawing everyone's attention.

And standing in the center of that space was Reuben. He looked straight at me and, under everyone's gaze, began an impromptu dance, every move exploding with passion and power.

As the last embers of the bonfire spiraled up into the night sky, he shouted, "Thea, I've liked you since the first moment I saw you! Will you be my girlfriend?"

I looked into his sparkling eyes, my heart pounding, and screamed back with all my might, "I will!"

The beginning of our relationship was sweet.

He would take a pattern I'd casually doodled and use it as the logo for his dance crew, printing it on all their merchandise.

When I pulled all-nighters to finish a project, he would silently bring me late-night snacks and energy drinks.

He remembered an art exhibition I had mentioned offhand and would surprise me with tickets he had bought weeks in advance.

He made me believe I hadn't loved the wrong person.

But then, about six months into our relationship, his new dance partner, Rosa, appeared.

She was the partner Reuben had handpicked to compete with him in the national competition.

The first time I saw Rosa, I finally understood what people meant by a "perfect match."