Emily

it's been two years since you first met him during your freshman year, and one year since the two of you started living together as sophomores. living together often felt like the two of you were like playing house. sharing a tiny apartment, splitting grocery bills, arguing over whose turn it was to do the dishes, and falling asleep side by side after exhausting days of classes. it was messy, imperfect, and far from glamorous, but it was yours, and you wouldn't have traded it for anything.

and james, on top of it all, made it a bearable experience. he had a way of turning even the most terrible days into something you'd look back on fondly. 

like he was already your husband, always looking after you like he was your wife. but you thought everything was perfect, you thought james was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

the apartment was quiet except for the creak of the bed frame and your breath hitching in your throat. soft droplets of rain come cascading down your bedroom windows, creating little tappy comforting sounds. james was pounding behind you, fingers digging into your hips hard enough, his thumbs stroking possessive bruises into your skin like he was making sure you won’t slip away any second.

"you're so good to me," he whispered, with his hips rolling slow and deliberate. "you know that? no one's ever been this good to me."

you hummed, your face planted down the pillows of your own bed, your back arching up to meet his pelvis. he felt perfect, that patient rhythm that built and built until you were trembling beneath him. 

now he was inside you bare for the first time, the heat of him was appalling. his dick felt slick and fever-hot without the latex barrier. you could feel every vein, every twitch, the way his thick pudgy tip dragged against your walls with each thrust.

james had worn you down for weeks, begging between kisses, whispering how good it would be to do it without the condoms, until you finally gave in. you told yourself it was a gift for him, something special after the brutal semester you'd both survived, but the truth was you wanted it too, wanted to know what he actually felt like.

"right there…" he grunts, sweat dripping from his jaw onto your shoulder, snapping his hips to hit that tender spot deep inside, the one that made your legs shake and your moans spill out helpless, guttural. "fuck, can you feel that, pretty? can you feel me?"

you nodded so compliantly, gasping, nails clawing at the sheets. “i do… i doo..”

he felt enormous like this, raw and entirely too much, his tip nudging that sensitive patch of flesh that had you seeing white, your walls clenching around him instinctively, trying to keep him there, keep him deep.

"that's it…" he pants quietly, grinding against you, his pubic bone pressing rough and deliberate where you were swollen and aching. "take it, prettyyy. take all of me."

you loved how whispery this was, it was going on so perfectly with the contrast of his burning body against the chill in the room. the sheets beneath you were soft and fluffy, the cheap comforter you'd bought together enveloping you as he rutted into you harder.

and the sounds… the wet slap of skin on skin, the obscene squelch of him sliding in your pussy, the creak of the mattress, the ragged exhale he couldn't quite suppress when he bottomed out.  you bit your lip to keep from crying out, your cold nose buried in the pillows.

"gonna take care of you, pretty…" he breathed against your neck, teeth grazing just hard enough to mark. 

"always… forever." the air thickened with his promise, with james’ teeth on your neck immediately sent a jolt straight to your core. his movements grew more frantic, less controlled, a desperate need for release. 

james now fills the small room along with his ragged breathing. 

you could feel the tension coiling in his thighs, the way his muscles tightened as he drove into you, chasing that final peak. the hand on your hip moved, tracing lazy circles on your lower back, a soothing touch that made you melt into the mattress. 

"you like how this feels?" he murmured, his voice a low, teasing rumble that vibrated through your entire body. "tell me."

“y-yes, james. this feels nice…” he chuckled softly, a warm, satisfied sound that made your heart flutter.

"yeah, that's what i thought," he breathed, nipping gently at your earlobe. "makes you stupid. doesn’t it, pretty?"

his words sent a fresh wave of arousal through you, and you clenched around him, a silent, affirmative answer. he groaned at the feeling, his hips stuttering for just a second before finding their rhythm again.

"fuck, you're gonna make me lose it." he whispered, his voice strained now, the teasing edge replaced by raw need.

but you couldn't see his face, couldn't see the way his eyes, usually so full of warmth, were now dead as he watched his dick impaled on your creamy pussy. you couldn't see the slight downward curve of his lips, and the most selfish desire in his heart right now.

james just loves you so much, and what other way can he make sure that you’ll never leave him?

is getting you pregnant too much to ask?

you did tell him you really loved him.

his rhythm grew sloppy, his hips losing their steady roll in favor of sharp, jerky thrusts. you could feel the change, the way his body tensed, a telltale sign you knew so well. you pushed back against him, a silent invitation, trusting him completely. 

the sound of your “no” played like a broken record in his brain as he felt his dick about to burst.

but this was the only way he thinks he can keep you, how he'd tie you to him forever, in a way that’s for permanence. james is just so desperate to fill in this insecurity that one day, you’ll probably leave him for someone better.

and he’d rather die than see that happen before his eyes.

"that's it, pretty, gonna fill you up." he ruins the whispery mood with that, his words sounding strained, almost pained. and one final, deep thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, a guttural groan torn from his chest as he pulsed inside you. the warmth of his cum flooding your unprotected cunt.

you collapsed onto the mattress, boneless and sated, feeling him soften inside you. he stayed there for a moment, a heavy, possessive weight, before slowly pulling out. you didn't see the way he watched his release leak from you, a flicker of cold satisfaction in his eyes before he laid down beside you, pulling you into his arms with a practiced tenderness that felt just like love.

@kiswritting | his no. 1 slave

The fight began the way most disastrous arguments do—not with screaming or shattered glass, but with something deceptively insignificant.

A forgotten text, a delayed response, a sigh delivered with the wrong tone. By midnight, however, the tiny fracture had widened into something jagged and catastrophic.

Rain tapped relentlessly against the apartment windows while the city beyond the glass dissolved into blurred streaks of gold and gray. The kitchen lights remained dim, casting amber shadows across the marble counters and illuminating the tension suspended thickly between the two of you.

You stood near the island with your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, nails digging crescents into your sleeves as though physically holding yourself together.

Across from you, Juhoon leaned against the counter in suffocating silence.

That silence again. That unbearable, impenetrable quietness that made every disagreement feel one-sided, like throwing your emotions against a locked door and hearing nothing echo back.

His expression was composed in the infuriating way it always was—controlled, restrained, unreadable. Even now, during an argument that had your chest aching so violently you could barely breathe, he looked devastatingly calm.

You hated that, not because he was cruel, but because you could never tell if he cared as much as you did.

“You could at least look at me while I’m talking,” you said at last, your voice strained from holding too much emotion for too long.

His gaze flickered upward briefly before drifting away again. “I’m listening.”

“That’s the problem,” you replied bitterly. “You’re always listening. Never talking.”

His jaw flexed, a subtle reaction most people would miss.

You didn’t. You noticed everything about him because you had spent months teaching yourself how to love someone who communicated through fragments instead of sentences.

The way his fingers curled meant irritation. The slight tension in his shoulders meant discomfort. The silence meant he was overwhelmed.

Except tonight you were exhausted from deciphering him. “You always do this,” you continued, voice trembling despite your efforts to steady it. “Every single time we argue, you shut down and leave me to figure everything out on my own.”

“I’m not shutting down.”

“You haven’t said more than five words to me in ten minutes.”

He exhaled slowly through his nose, already looking fatigued by the conversation. “You know I’m not good at this.”

A humorless laugh escaped you. “At what? Communicating? Having emotions?”

“That’s not fair.”

“No?” Your eyes burned. “Then tell me what is fair, Juhoon. Because I spend half this relationship wondering whether you actually want me here.”

That finally made him look at you directly, and the hurt in his eyes was immediate. But instead of softening you, it only made the frustration twisting through your ribs intensify. “You know that’s not true.”

“How would I know?” you shot back. “You never tell me anything.”

His patience began to fracture. You could hear it in the clipped cadence of his breathing. “I show you.”

“You show me in ways I have to analyze like I’m decoding some impossible language,” you said, voice rising. “Do you know how exhausting that is?”

He pushed away from the counter then, agitation radiating from him in restrained waves. “And do you know how exhausting it is feeling like nothing I do is enough for you?”

The words struck harder than expected. You blinked. “I never said that.”

“You don’t have to.” His tone sharpened. For the first time that night, genuine anger seeped through his carefully maintained composure.

“It’s always the same conversation,” he continued. “You keep asking for more and more and more from me like I’m failing some test I didn’t even know I was taking.”

“That’s not what this is!”

“Then what is it?” he snapped suddenly. “Because apparently loving you quietly isn’t enough. Remembering everything about you isn’t enough. Being there whenever you need me isn’t enough because I don’t say pretty things every five seconds.”

The accusation stole the air from your lungs. “I never asked for perfect words,” you whispered.

“Could’ve fooled me.” The cruelty in his voice was subtle, not loud nor explosive.  Which somehow made it worse.

Your throat tightened painfully. “I just want reassurance sometimes.”

“And I’m telling you I’m trying.”

“You barely talk to me when something’s wrong!”

“Because every time I do,” he said sharply, “it turns into this.”

Silence crashed between you again, only this time it felt vicious. Your heartbeat thudded painfully against your ribs. “You know what hurts the most?” you asked quietly. “I feel lonely even when I’m standing right beside you.”

Something cold flickered across his face then. Exhaustion, the kind born from feeling perpetually misunderstood. “And you know what I’m tired of?” he replied. “Feeling like I have to become someone else just to keep you satisfied.”

Your lips parted. “That’s not—”

“No, listen,” he interrupted, voice rougher now. “I can’t love the way you want every second of every day. I’m not overly emotional. I’m not good with words. And honestly?” His eyes hardened slightly. “Maybe if you stopped needing constant validation, we wouldn’t keep ending up here.”

The sentence landed like a blade driven straight between your ribs. The room went completely still. Juhoon seemed to realize it immediately.

You saw the regret flash across his features the second the words left his mouth. But it was too late, because suddenly every insecurity you had buried deep inside yourself came clawing violently to the surface.

Too clingy, too emotional, too much. Your face went blank in the terrifying way heartbreak sometimes empties a person instead of making them cry. “Wow,” you whispered.

“Baby, I didn’t mean—”

“No.” Your voice sounded distant even to yourself. “You meant it.”

His expression crumpled slightly. “I was angry.”

“That doesn’t make it less true.”

“It’s not true.”

But now you couldn’t stop hearing it. Maybe if you stopped needing constant validation. The sentence echoed viciously through your head.

You swallowed hard, suddenly unable to bear the sight of him. Without another word, you turned and grabbed your jacket from the back of the chair.

Juhoon straightened immediately. “Where are you going?”

“I need to leave for a while.”

“It’s raining.”

“I don’t care.”

He stepped forward then, panic finally overtaking the frustration on his face. “Don’t do this.”

You laughed softly, but the sound was hollow. “Do what? Leave before I embarrass myself by begging someone to love me correctly?”

His face paled. “That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you meant.”

“I was frustrated—”

“And I was hurt.”

Your voice cracked at last. Raw devastation bleeding through the numbness settling over you. “You know what the worst part is?” you whispered, eyes glossy now. “I defended your silence for so long. To everyone. I kept telling myself you loved differently, that you cared in ways people couldn’t see.”

Juhoon looked like he physically couldn’t breathe.

“But tonight,” you continued shakily, “you made me feel stupid for wanting reassurance from the person I love.”

The apartment fell deathly silent. Rain battered the windows harder. His eyes glistened with immediate remorse “Please don’t leave angry.”

You stared at him for a long moment. At the boy you loved so desperately it frightened you. The boy whose quiet tenderness had once felt safe. Now it only felt unreachable. “I think if I stay right now,” you said softly, “I’ll say something unforgivable.”

Then you walked toward the door.

“Baby—”

But this time, when he said it, you didn’t stop, and the sound of the door closing behind you felt far too much like something breaking forever.

The night had become glacial by the time you finally wandered back toward the apartment. Hours had passed in a blur of rain-slick sidewalks, blurred streetlights, and thoughts so tangled they felt impossible to unravel.

The city was nearly silent now, stripped of its usual vibrancy, leaving only the distant hum of traffic and the occasional rush of cold wind biting against your skin.

Your fingers were numb inside your jacket pockets. Your chest hurt worse. The argument replayed relentlessly in your mind no matter how hard you tried to outrun it.

Maybe if you stopped needing constant validation.

The sentence echoed like a bruise pressed over and over again. Part of you understood he hadn’t meant it the way it sounded. You knew Juhoon better than anyone. You knew frustration twisted his words sharp sometimes, especially when emotions overwhelmed him.

But another part of you, the quieter, more fragile part—couldn’t stop wondering if there had been truth hidden beneath the cruelty.

Maybe you were too much. Too emotional, too needy, too difficult to love properly.

The thought hollowed something inside you, and somehow, despite all of it, despite the hurt still lodged painfully beneath your ribs—You missed him desperately, pathetically.

It had only been a few hours, yet every second away from him had felt profoundly wrong, as though some invisible thread tethered between your hearts had stretched too far without snapping completely.

By the time you reached the apartment building, exhaustion clung heavily to your bones. Your phone read 2:07 AM.

The hallway outside your apartment was eerily quiet. Even the usual flickering overhead light seemed dimmer tonight.

You stood outside the door for several seconds, staring blankly at the handle while anxiety twisted violently in your stomach. What if he was still angry? What if he regretted everything? What if—

You swallowed hard and unlocked the door anyway. The apartment was almost entirely dark. Only the small lamp beside the couch remained on, casting a muted golden glow across the living room. Shadows stretched lazily along the walls while rain continued murmuring softly against the windows.

And there he was. Your breath caught instantly.

Juhoon was curled awkwardly against the couch cushions, still wearing the same black hoodie from earlier. One arm lay draped over his face while the other rested limply against his stomach, like exhaustion had finally dragged him under after hours of waiting.

The sight alone nearly shattered you. He looked uncomfortable, restless. Like sleep had only claimed him out of complete emotional collapse.

Your chest constricted painfully. Slowly, carefully, you stepped closer. “Juhoon,” you whispered.

No response.

You crouched beside the couch quietly, your heart aching at how pale he looked beneath the warm light. Strands of dark hair had fallen messily across his forehead, soft and disheveled in a way that made him seem unbearably vulnerable.

Tentatively, you brushed your fingers through it. “Baby.”

His eyelashes fluttered faintly. Then slowly, reluctantly, his eyes opened, and your entire body went still.

His eyes were swollen, red-rimmed, wet. Like he had spent hours crying alone in the dark.

Your stomach dropped immediately. “Oh my god…”

The devastation on his face the moment he fully recognized you was almost unbearable to witness. Relief hit him so violently it physically altered his expression. His lips parted shakily.

Before you could even process it, Juhoon surged upright and wrapped his arms around you with desperate force, nearly knocking the breath from your lungs entirely, and then he broke apart.

A strangled sob ripped from his chest so abruptly that it startled you. His entire body trembled violently against yours while another shattered sound escaped him, raw and uncontrollable.

“Hey—hey, it’s okay,” you whispered immediately, climbing onto the couch beside him as your own vision blurred with tears. “Juhoon…”

He buried his face against your neck like he couldn’t bear to look at you directly, fingers clutching the fabric of your hoodie so tightly it almost hurt.

But you didn’t care, because Juhoon was crying. Juhoon, the boy who concealed every emotion behind silence and restraint—was sobbing in your arms like he had been holding himself together by a single unraveling thread.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out brokenly. Your heart cracked clean down the middle. “I’m so sorry.”

Another sob tore through him, rough and uneven. You froze for half a second, overwhelmed by the sheer enormity of his grief.

You had never seen him like this before. Never. 

Even during the worst moments of his life, Juhoon had always remained composed in that quiet, self-destructive way of his. He internalized everything. Buried everything. Suffered in silence because vulnerability terrified him more than pain itself.

But now?

Now he was unraveling completely beneath your touch, and somehow that hurt more than the argument ever had.

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispered frantically between shaky breaths. “I swear to god I didn’t mean it like that—I didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted.”

Tears spilled down his cheeks faster than he could wipe them away. His breathing came unevenly, fragile hiccups interrupting nearly every sentence.

“You left and I just…” He swallowed hard, voice splintering apart. “I thought you were done with me.”

“Oh, Juhoon…”

“I called you like ten times,” he admitted weakly, words muffled against your shoulder. “I kept trying to figure out what to say, but nothing sounded right and I—fuck—”

His voice dissolved into another sob. “I can’t lose you.” The confession was so painfully sincere it made your own tears fall instantly.

You cupped his face carefully, forcing him to look at you despite the embarrassment flickering through his watery eyes.

And god, he looked devastated.

Wet lashes clung together while tears slid endlessly down flushed skin. His lips trembled uncontrollably, breath hitching every few seconds as though his body physically could not calm down now that the fear had finally escaped him, and beneath all that anguish.

Love.

So much overwhelming love it nearly stole the air from your lungs. “You’re not losing me,” you whispered softly.

His expression crumpled further. “I thought I already did.”

You brushed your thumbs beneath his eyes gently, catching tear after tear.

“I know I’m difficult,” he whispered hoarsely. “I know I make things hard because I don’t talk right, but I swear I love you more than anything.”

The sincerity in his voice shattered whatever remained of your anger, because he meant it. Every single syllable.

Juhoon loved with terrifying intensity. He just expressed it differently—through actions, through presence, through quiet devotion hidden in places words could never fully reach.

“I don’t know how to explain things the way you need,” he continued shakily. “But I need you here. I need you.”

Your chest ached so violently it almost felt unbearable. Without thinking, you leaned forward and kissed him softly.

The second your lips touched his, he melted completely. A trembling breath escaped him, shaky and uneven, before his hands slid around your waist with unmistakable desperation. Not possessive, but clinging, almost fragile, like he needed physical proof that you were truly there and not about to disappear again.

The kiss carried remnants of tears and exhaustion and unspoken apologies.

Juhoon kissed you like someone starved for reassurance, every movement hesitant at first before gradually deepening with overwhelming emotion. His lips trembled faintly against yours while his fingers curled tighter into the fabric of your hoodie, anchoring himself to you with quiet urgency.

You could still taste salt from his tears. Could still feel the uneven rhythm of his breathing brushing shakily against your skin, and somehow, that vulnerability shattered you more thoroughly than the argument ever had.

When you pulled back only slightly, your foreheads rested together, breaths mingling in the small space between you.

His eyes remained half-lidded and glassy, lashes damp and clumped together from crying. There was something devastatingly defenseless about the way he looked at you now, like every carefully constructed wall he’d spent years building had finally collapsed under the sheer magnitude of loving you.

“I’m sorry too,” you whispered against his mouth.

He shook his head immediately, brows pinching together. “No, don’t apologize.”

“I left.”

“You were hurt.”

“So were you.”

That alone nearly made him cry again. A shaky breath escaped him before he buried himself against you once more, arms wrapping tightly around your middle as though separation itself had become unbearable now.

This time, he didn’t fight the tears. He let them come. Soft, broken sobs trembled through him while your fingers combed gently through his hair, untangling the storm little by little.

“I love you,” you murmured repeatedly against his temple. “I love you so much.”

Every single time you said it, his grip tightened, as though he was memorizing the feeling of hearing it.

Eventually his crying softened into quiet sniffles and exhausted breathing. You pressed a lingering kiss against his forehead. “Come to bed with me?”

He nodded weakly. The two of you moved through the apartment in silence, but it no longer felt hostile. Now it felt delicate, tender. Juhoon never let go of your hand once.

The second you both slipped beneath the blankets, he immediately curled himself against your side, burying his face near your shoulder while one arm wrapped securely around your waist.

Your fingers drifted slowly along his back beneath his hoodie, soothing the occasional tremor still lingering through his body.

The room remained quiet except for rain tapping softly against the windows and his gradually steadying breathing. Then, after several long minutes. “I never think you’re annoying.”

Your heart squeezed painfully. You glanced down at him. His eyes remained closed, voice rough and sleepy from crying. “I like when you cling to me,” he admitted quietly. “Makes me feel… wanted.”

A weak, watery laugh escaped you. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.” His fingertips curled faintly into the fabric of your shirt, hesitant and delicate despite the vulnerability trembling beneath the gesture. “When you need me like that,” he whispered quietly, voice still rough from crying, “it reminds me I matter to someone.”

You stared at him in stunned silence for a moment, because suddenly everything made sense. All this time, Juhoon had been loving you with the exact same desperation you loved him.

He just buried it beneath silence because he never learned how to voice it aloud.

Your expression softened entirely. The tension lingering in your chest melted into something overwhelmingly tender as your fingers brushed carefully along his cheek, your thumb grazing beneath his eye where faint traces of tears still remained.

He leaned into the touch instinctively. The sight nearly shattered you.

Slowly, you leaned down and kissed him again. This kiss was different from before, slower, sleepier. Overflowing with forgiveness instead of panic.

Your lips moved against his with lingering tenderness while his breathing softened gradually beneath the warmth of your touch. He kissed you back carefully, almost reverently, as though savoring every second instead of fearing its disappearance.

The room around you had become impossibly still. Only the rain tapping faintly against the windows and the occasional shaky exhale from Juhoon disturbed the silence.

One of his hands slid slowly upward along your side until it rested lightly against your ribs beneath your hoodie. The touch was featherlight, unhurried, his fingertips tracing absentminded patterns there like he simply needed to feel your heartbeat beneath his palm.

Yet even now, wrapped around you beneath dim bedroom lighting, Juhoon continued kissing you with heartbreaking sincerity, as if every unspoken emotion he’d buried for months was finally pouring out through touch instead of words.

in my twenty years of living, i have never dreaded anything more than getting into that car.

i’ve never dreaded anything more than starting the camera for the last time with the boy i love sitting next to me in the passenger seat.

i’ve never dreaded anything as much as sitting there in front of a rolling camera and spilling my heart out.

everyone thought everything was perfect with us.

but all the fake smiles after arguments, the masks we put on for the camera after a screaming match, the blinked back tears and the swallowed hurt we hid from the world would finally be seen by them. and that terrified me.

suddenly it all felt very real.

i find myself sitting back in what should be the comfort of my drivers seat, but the thoughts heavy on my mind block out all sense of familiarity with my position in front of a camera.

chris sits next to me, evidently as anxious as i am. we exchange few words. it hurt too much to say anything more.

my shaky hand reached out to start recording, missing the button a few times.

as the cameras starting rolling and i spoke, my voice trembled with raw emotion, betraying the pain i desperately tried to suppress. chris sat beside me staring at his lap, knees bouncing, his usual bright and warm demeanour muted by the overwhelming feelings of heartbreak.

‘i think we owe it to all of you to be honest.’ i forced out, my voice leaving my lips sounding foreign.

we’d been separated for two weeks now but sitting here in my car, enveloped in his scent and presence where we had sat together many times before, was when the realisation of what we were doing hit me like a train wreck.

i choked up instantly, the lump in my throat too big to continue speaking.

i took a few moments to compose myself and chris looked up to face the camera.

‘me and chris have decided to end our relationship.’

the weight of the words settle in and i suddenly feel like my heart has been hollowed out of my chest. it only now feels like those words have become a reality.

it hurts. so bad.

‘it’s not something that’s easy for either of us,’ chris continued, his voice quivering as much as his form. he’s shaking so much i feel myself become dizzy with how fast his leg is bouncing.

‘i still love her and she still loves me,’ he paused, taking in a deep breath before continuing, ‘but we’ve come to understand that we want different things in life and that by staying together we weren’t letting each other achieve all the things we wanted to.’ his voice cracked.

more tears welled up in my eyes as i recounted the countless memories we’d shared, each one a bitter reminder of what we were losing.

‘we’ve grown in different directions,’ i confessed, my voice croaky. i was struggling to get the words out. still, i continued, ‘and as much as it hurts, we know this is the right decision for both of us.’

‘i think, since we got together quite young, we were still unsure about our futures and what we wanted to do with our lives, so once we realised what we did, we also realised that what we wanted were different things. so it’s just part of growing up i guess.’

for a sentence meant to be said lightly, he sure made it feel as heavy as an anchor dragging my heart down to my stomach.

‘even though coming to this conclusion was a really hard journey, it definitely had to be done. we couldn’t drag each other down like that because i think it would be selfish and in the long run it would’ve led to more hurt,’ i lied through my teeth. i didn’t think that. i don’t think i could ever feel more hurt then i do right now.

i love him. i love him so much it makes me sick at how little i have to offer him. he deserves better. he’s always deserved better.

‘even though we’re ending things here, i just want to say that i could never be the person i am today without y/n. she’s always been there for me, during the bad times and the good and i’m so glad that i was able to meet someone like her when i did because i honestly don’t know what kinda place i would be in if i hadn’t.’ chris choked out, struggling to contain his tears.

i took his hand in mine, though i couldn’t tell whether it was to console him or me.

‘i love chris and i know they’ll always be a part of my heart that belongs to him.’

i caught a glance of myself in the rear view mirror. my eyes were red and puffy. my cheeks were wet with tears and the bottom half of my face was trembling uncontrollably. he looked of a similar state.

i tried to continue, turning my body to face him,

’i really wish you the best in life chris, i love you and i hope that you’ll achieve all that you ever want. i’m sorry for anything and everything i’ve said to you over the years that may have hurt you, knowingly or unknowingly.’ the tears ran down my cheeks and i wiped my eyes and suppressed them again.

i wanted to tell him that i hoped he would find someone better to love, someone that could offer more and that he could love as much as i love him. but i couldn’t. because i didn’t. not one bit.

‘chris, you and your brothers have brightened up my life in so many ways and i just can’t-‘

i couldn’t say anything more. but when i looked up into his eyes i knew he understood me and that he could see all the things i wanted to say.

and that made me feel worse. i hate how well he knows me.

‘i love you too, and i hope we can still be friends.’

i smiled sadly but didn’t say anything.

i knew he could never be anything less than a lover to me.

as the video drew to a close, our hands lay entwined on the centre console as we ended our last video.

with heavy hearts and trembling lips, we wave goodbye to the camera for the last time.

as soon as it shut off, chris burst into a fit of uncontrolled sobs. i cried silently with his hand in mine. each cry that escaped his lips stabbed at my heart.

i was doing this for him, i reminded myself. don’t be selfish.

his whole body shook, his other hand clutched tightly at his chest, as if trying to contain the overwhelming ache he felt inside. with each shuddering breath, his shoulders heaved trying to grasp onto any bit of air he could.

i brought his head to my chest and he cried into my shirt, grasping onto me like he was trying to keep me from leaving.

i tried to slow his breaths and after a while he looked up at me. my heart was too shattered to feel any more pain.

all i saw was him. i was probably a reflection of him, tear-stricken cheeks, puffed up and bloodshot eyes. but in my eyes he has never he looked more beautiful then he did now.

he started to quiver again in my arms.

‘hey. you’re gonna be okay.’

he looked deep into my eyes and the tears started pouring again. i tangled my fingers in his hair and then he whispered with nothing but anguish and utter heartache is his voice,

‘but i don’t wanna be okay without you.’

GODDAMN WAS THAT A RIDE 😪

i cannot tell u how many times i cried writing this im such an emotional wreck

anyway tell me what you think, feedback and constructive criticism are welcome!!

- ray🌻

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