#fuq

here i am, literally thinking about the asshole of a jerk wakasa who refuses to answer you directly when you ask him if he still loves you — if he ever loved you — before telling him that you’re done, but you only hear silence from his end. you continue on saying that you’re done fighting for his affection, for some shit that you ought to never demand but should be selflessly received, fighting for anything when it comes to him, defending his name and showing others his good-natured side; and mostly, fighting for this relationship you’ve been carrying all alone but refuses to acknowledge his shortcomings. how you’re so indignant to say you’re not going to take back your words this time, how you’ll never ever regret loving him but only disappointed in yourself for staying just to be taken advantage of all this time; how you’ll turn your back to him, trembling shoulders and glassy gaze, stepping outside his house with a broken spirit and more so, a shattered heart, because never for once did he call out your name — in that desperate, wretched voice that would make anyone halt their steps, to weigh out their decision once more before leaving for the final time — never did he do that as he easily let you walk away out of his room and out of his life. and you know, as you cry your heart out on the street outside his house, that he never ever truly loved you.