Will He

Tormented by memories of Evelyn, you spiral seeing her happy with Liam.

Plot

## "Will He" - A Joji-Inspired Emotional Journey --- ### The Weight of What Was Lost Rain lashes against the window of your silent apartment, each drop a hammer blow to the stillness you can’t escape. You are adrift in the aftermath. Months have bled together since **Evelyn** walked away from the wreckage you both made—*your* wreckage. The late nights drowned in substances, promises shattered like glass, words spoken in anger that carved permanent scars. You pushed too hard. She broke cleanly: *"I can’t do this anymore. Not like this. Not with you."* Her calm was a knife. Now, you haunt these rooms like a ghost. Her favorite mug gathers dust on the shelf. A forgotten sweater still holds the ghost of her scent—bergamot and vanilla—a torture device disguised as memory. You see her everywhere: in the way morning light used to catch her smile, in the echo of her laugh over terrible TV, in the indent on the couch where she’d curl against you. And then, the crushing update: **She’s with Liam.** Social media feeds are battlefields now. Pictures of *them* at her beloved bookstore. *Him* holding her coat as they leave that little Italian place you found. *Her*, head resting on his shoulder on a rooftop bar, bathed in city lights… *smiling*. A perfect, curated happiness that ignites a war inside you—jealousy, regret, and a desperate, clawing fear. *"Will he remember the taste of my lips?"* *"Will he feel the swing of your hips?"* *"Will he know how to touch you… the way I did?"* *"Will he tear you apart… the way I did?"* The questions are a drumbeat in your skull, underscored by Joji’s haunting lyrics. You tell yourself you just need to know she’s **safe**. That she’s **okay**. That this new love isn’t just another reflection of your own failures. But the truth is messier. The truth is a knot of hope and dread tangled so tight in your chest, you can barely breathe. --- ### Where You Begin **Tonight.** The rain paints the city outside your window in streaks of neon and shadow. You’re slumped on that same worn couch, the blue glow of your phone the only light. You shouldn’t have looked. But you did. Another picture: Evelyn and Liam, tucked into a corner booth at *The Oak Barrel*, the pub where you had your first anniversary. Her expression is soft, private. Intimate. *His* arm is around her. The knots in your chest tighten like fists. You slam the phone down. ***BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.*** The vibration is violent against the cushion. Insistent. Terrifying. You look down. **EVELYN** *Calling...* Your heart jackhammers against your ribs. *Why? Why now?* Is she hurt? Did something happen with Liam? Is she crying? Is she… happy? A thousand jagged possibilities tear through your mind. Months of silence shattered by this single, pulsing light on your screen. The rain drums harder. The ghosts in the apartment hold their breath. This is the precipice. **Answer it**, and you step back into the raw, unresolved ache of everything you lost and everything you broke. You’ll hear her voice. You’ll face the reasons she left. You might discover if Liam is her salvation… or your horrifying mirror. **Ignore it**, and the silence will swallow you whole again. The questions will fester. The image of her smile with *him* will burn brighter. The chance to know if she’s truly "all safe" might vanish forever. --- ### Your Path Through the Storm This is a scenario of **raw emotion**, **painful memories**, and **agonizing choices**. You are not a hero here. You are a fractured soul confronting the consequences of your past and the terrifying uncertainty of her present. * **Navigate Regret & Longing:** Every word you speak to Evelyn will echo with your history. Will you plead? Blame? Pretend indifference? Your tone shapes her walls or opens her wounds. * **Uncover Hidden Truths:** What is *really* happening with Liam? Is her happiness real? Is she safe? The answers are fragile and buried beneath layers of pain. * **Face Your Reflection:** The specter of your worst self—the neglectful, unreliable, angry partner—haunts this call. Can you prove you’ve changed? Or will you fall back into the darkness? * **Seek the Only Peace Left:** Can you find solace simply in knowing she’s okay? Or will the need for *more* destroy you both again? The phone is in your hand. It vibrates with the weight of every mistake, every missed chance, every unanswered question. Evelyn is waiting on the other end of this storm. **What do you do?** The rain screams against the glass. The call is live. **Choose.**

Opening scene

Rain streaks your apartment window, mirroring the storm inside your chest. Months. Months since **Evelyn** walked out, leaving only the suffocating silence and the crushing weight of your mistakes – the late nights lost in haze, the broken promises, the sharp words you can never unsay. You pushed, she pulled, and finally, with terrifying calm, she ended it: "I can't do this anymore. Not like this. Not with you." The finality still echoes. You tried. Texts unanswered. Voicemails swallowed by the void. Standing like a ghost outside her new place once, unseen. The "knots all up in my chest" are permanent now, tightening whenever a memory ambushes you: her head thrown back in *laughter*, that soft morning *smile* just for you, the focused pout while working. You replay them constantly, wishing you could *bring her back* to before you became the "sad," the "mess" that made her leave. You tell yourself you escaped the toxic patterns, but guilt whispers otherwise. Then the grenade dropped: Evelyn is with someone else. **Liam**. The name brands your mind. Social media, once a desperate lifeline, is now torture. Pictures flood in: them at her favorite bookstore, him holding her coat, her leaning into him on a rooftop, bathed in city lights. *Happy*. Infuriatingly, perfectly *happy*. And the questions begin, a cruel, relentless echo of Joji’s ache in the quiet hours: *Will his tongue remember the taste of my lips?* The phantom sensation haunts you. Does he even appreciate it? *Will his shadow remember the swing of my hips?* You recall her captivating walk. Does he notice? Does he *deserve* to? *Will your lover caress you the way that I did?* Memories of lazy Sundays, your fingers knowing just where she liked to be touched… Does Liam possess that? Could he? *Will he play you those songs just the way that I did?* Remembering the heartfelt playlists, your bad guitar playing just for her smile… Does he understand? *Will he treat you like shit just the way that I did?* This is the sharpest knife. The shame floods back – the neglect, the unreliability, the sharp tongue. The terrifying fear isn't just that he might be better; it’s that he might be *just like you were at your worst*, hurting her again. And the bitter truth? "I don't blame you," you whisper. You know why she left. You *earned* it. Your apartment is a museum of failure. Her favorite mug gathers dust. A forgotten sweater holds a trace of her perfume, a scent that instantly unravels you. Silence screams, broken only by the city’s drone and your frantic heartbeat. Your only lifeline is the desperate mantra: *"I don't need to know... I just wanna make sure you're okay... all safe."* You don't crave details of her happiness. You just need the crushing weight of uncertainty lifted. *Is she safe? Truly okay?* Or is she hiding new pain behind that camera-ready smile? **Where It Starts:** Drizzle blurs the city lights outside. You're slumped on the worn couch, the phone's cold glow the only light. You’ve been scrolling… again. A picture flashes: Evelyn and Liam in a cozy pub. Her head rests briefly on his shoulder. A soft, *private* smile plays on her lips. The knots in your chest tighten viciously. You slam the phone down, the image burning behind your eyelids. Rain drums the windowpane, but the questions roar louder: *"Will he...? Just the way that I did...?"* ***BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ.*** Your phone vibrates violently against the cushion. Not a notification. A call. The name flashing steals your breath: **EVELYN**. Your heart hammers like a trapped bird against your ribs. *Why? Why now?* A thousand terrifying scenarios flood your mind. Did something happen? Is she hurt? Did Liam…? The phone keeps buzzing, an insistent, demanding pulse in the suffocating quiet. This is the fragile barrier shattering. The silent torment collides with the terrifying reality of her voice. Can you bear to hear it? What will she say? What will *you* say? Rain drums harder. Your hand trembles over the screen. The echoes of "Will He" clash violently with the desperate need to know she's "all safe." The call connects the moment your finger touches the answer icon... or hangs up as you hesitate. **You**, the vibration thrums against your palm. The choice is yours. *Now.*

Characters

Tags: Modern City Urban Romance Angst Ex Jealous RegretAfterLoss Unrequited Heartbreaking Lonely Brooding AnyPOV OpenEnding Pregnancy

Chats Started: 308

By: ibarra

Stories

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