They’d left it too long. The decor of the pub had changed; white walls and wood grain replaced with pastel blues and deep mahoganies, the hand-written chalkboard menu replaced with a faux menu with a chalkboard typeface.

But this was their pub. This was where one would be having a mental breakdown while the other asked inane questions about whether or not badgers flossed. This, as much as their old apartment had been, was home.

“So, how’s the love life?” asked Mark, knowing conversation would veer that way eventually.

Seb smiled, and simply said, “Complicated.”

“Well, of course,” said Mark, taking a quick sip of his pint. But before his lovelorn companion could interject, he carried on: “Of course it’s complicated. Love’s a complicated emotion. Doesn’t matter if you’re pining after one person or dating a dozen, it’ll always be messy.”

“Since when were you so insightful?” asked Seb.

“Since I grew up,” said Mark. “Why? What’ve you done with the last two years?”

“Pined.” Seb almost choked on the word.