Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
literally thank god sex isnt real and was just invented by big fiction to emphasize greater social and psychological themes i was getting scared id have to do all that
this is actually HILARIOUS because both domestic rabbits and domestic cats practice dominance-related social grooming but for wildly different reasons.
if you're a rabbit, the boss rabbit is the one who gets groomed by its subordinate rabbits.
but if you're a cat... the boss cat is the one that grooms the other cats.
BOTH these idiots are going "aw yeah, it's good to be on top >:) "
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
summary: keeping your relationship with felix a secret means stolen time and constant goodbyes. youâve always been patient with him, until missed dates turn into broken promises and âitâs okayâ starts to break you
day 2 of the swiftkids anthology (inspired by say donât go by taylor swift)
the first time you really realise what being in a secret relationship is like, itâs not during a kiss or a date or anything big or special like that. itâs when youâre standing alone in the middle of a hallway backstage, holding two cups of coffee that are already getting cold.
one for you, one for him.
youâre watching staff members rush past you like youâre invisible - headsets, clipboards, wires taped to the floor, doors opening and closing every second. someone brushes your shoulder and mutters a quick âsorryâ without even looking at you.
you step closer to the wall, out of everyoneâs way, like you have learnt to do, like you always do. you check your phone and see his last texts are from twenty minutes ago.
felix: five more minutes, sunshine
felix: donât go, iâll come get you!
you know heâs late but you smile at the screen anyway, because you know this comes with dating him, this comes with loving him.
because loving felix comes with learning how to wait.
the next time you go to see felix perform, you donât sit with the staff, you donât sit with the guests, you donât even go near the stage entrance. you stay where the managers tell you to stay, in the quiet corner near the dressing rooms, half hidden behind a stack of equipment cases.
âitâs safer this wayâ, they say, âjust so no one can see you hereâ
so you nod your head, like you always do. youâre good at making yourself small, and youâre also good at pretending you donât mind.
youâre looking at the pictures on your phone when you suddenly hear the muffled bass from the stage vibrating through the walls and the crowd screaming. you smile and then, imagine felix out there, laughing and shining.
everyone gets to see him, everyone gets to cheer for him. and you're back here, counting the minutes until you get to see him properly again. but still, your chest feels warm and your smile gets even bigger, because heâs yours, even if no one knows it, even if you canât clap too loud or run into his arms when the show ends - you love him, so you wait for him.
dating felix means learning routines no one else sees or even imagines, but dating him means a lot more things.
it means waiting in the car outside the company building while practice runs late.
it means texting him âtake your time love <3â even when itâs 2 a.m. and your eyes burn.
it means canceling dates because he texts you saying âwe have to stay and record for a bit longer, iâm so sorry sunshineâÂ
it means pretending you donât mind eating ramyeon alone in your kitchen counter and smiling when he finally shows up hours later, exhausted and guilty, and saying âitâs okay, lixie, i wasnât that hungry anywayâ
it also means quiet and secret dates - hoodies, caps, masks. movie nights in his dorm or in your apartment. his head in your lap while you play with his hair, kissing softly because the walls are thin, laughing into your pillows so no one hears.
it means loving him with your whole heart, but not too loud, not too obvious.
sometimes you wonder what it would be like to hold his hand outside, just once. you imagine what it would be like to walk down the street like a normal couple, with no hats, no looking over your shoulder.
just you and him. simple, easy.Â
but then you think about him and how he smiles at you - that soft and beautiful smile that he reserves just for you - and everything else disappears, nothing else matters anymore. you tell yourself itâs enough, heâs enough.
one night, youâre at his dorm while seungmin is out. the lights are dim and thereâs a movie playing quietly on the tv, but youâre not really watching it anyway. heâs lying on top of you, half asleep, his face tucked into your neck, as your fingers trace the freckles on his face.
âyouâre comfyâ, he mumbles against you.
âand youâre sleepyâ, you say.
he laughs softly, the sound vibrating against you.
âi am notâ
âyes, you areâ, you laugh softly.
he lifts his head just enough to look at you, his eyes warm and tired and so full of love it makes your chest ache.
âthank you for waiting for me todayâ, he says quietly.
âitâs fine, lixieâ, you tell him.
âno, itâs not. you had to wait for like⊠two hours. iâm sorryâ
you run your fingers through his hair.
âitâs okayâ, you say again.
and you really mean it, because you know how hard he works. you see it everyday - the exhaustion, the long hours, the endless days and nights, the way he falls asleep mid-sentence sometimes.
you donât want to be another weight on his shoulders, so you make yourself lighter, easier. you become the kind of girlfriend who never complains, who always says âof courseâ and âdonât worryâ and âi understandâ
but sometimes you wonder if you understand too much, because most nights, you fall asleep waiting for his call, with your phone in your hand and the lamp still on.
one night you wake up at 3 a.m to your phone buzzing.
felix: sunshine iâm done. are you awake?
you stare at the text for a second and your chest suddenly feels too tight, because you had been waiting for him, you had promised yourself youâd stay awake.
and you had failed, but you still call him anyway.
âhi, lixieâ, you say as soon as he picks up.
âhi, sunshine. did i wake you?â, he says.
â... noâ
thatâs a lie, and he hears it anyway.
he sighs, âiâm sorry, y/nâ
âitâs okayâ, you say.
because itâs always okay.
almost a year passes like that - hiding, waiting, loving, giving. you donât really notice how often youâre the one bending, how often youâre the one sitting alone with two drinks getting cold. because every time he looks at you like youâre his whole world, it erases everything else. because every time he kisses you, it stops time.Â
you donât realise yet that loving someone shouldnât feel like this much waiting and giving and giving and waiting. you just think this is what love is really like.
so when your one year anniversary gets closer, you donât ask for much. you just want to have dinner with him - just one evening, you and him, no more waiting. and thatâs what you tell yourself, smiling at your phone while you make the reservation.
âthis time, heâll be there on time, weâll be togetherâ, you say to yourself.
youâre sure this time, you wonât have to wait for him.
when you wake up the morning of your anniversary, you already feel your excitement sitting warm in your chest.
one year, twelve whole months together.
you lie in your bed for a bit longer, staring at the ceiling with your phone in your hand as you reread his texts from last night.
felix: happy almost one year, sunshine
felix: iâll finish practice early tomorrow, i promise
felix: iâll see you at the restaurant!
felix: miss you alreadyÂ
you roll onto your side and smile into your pillow like an idiot. you know it shouldnât feel that special - itâs just another date after all â but with him it does. every little thing feels huge, precious, like something you need to protect.Â
you spend the rest of the day doing house chores and when youâre finally done, you start getting ready. you try on five different outfits, then you redo your hair because it doesnât sit right. heâs seen you in your pyjamas and messy buns and puffy eyes, but you still want to look pretty for him.
when you leave your apartment, your heels click against the pavement as you walk to the restaurant, a small and warm place tucked into a quiet street close to the company building. itâs not too fancy, nor too crowded, itâs safe and private for the both of you.
when you enter the restaurant, you tell one of the waitresses that you had a reservation and that youâre waiting for someone else and she smiles and leads you to a small table near the window, a candle in the middle of it, flickering softly.Â
you text him to let him know youâre already there and he starts typing almost immediately.
felix: leaving practice now, iâll be there in 20 mins max, sunshine
you leave your phone on the table before you order water and sit back, watching people pass outside the window - couples, friends, families, someone walking their dog.
you look at your phone again and check the time.
8:05
okay, he said twenty minutes, itâs only been five. you can wait, you tell yourself again. you scroll through your phone, replying to some texts from your friends, then you fix your lipstick using the reflection on your screen as the candle flickers on the table and you hear music playing softly overhead.
you imagine felix walking through the door, with his hat low and his hoodie, that big and bright smile when he spots you. you imagine how he will sit with you and he will immediately reach for your hand under the table.
8:18
you glance at the door every time it opens, hoping to see him walking in.
not him.
not him.
not him.Â
itâs fine, you tell yourself, traffic maybe. or maybe one of his managers stopped him on his way out. you sip your water and look at your phone again.
8:25
you decide to text him, make sure heâs alright and nothing has happened.
you: lixie is everything okay?
this time the reply doesnât come instantly. heâs probably changing, or maybe heâs waiting for the car. yeah, that has to be. you sigh and then nod to yourself.Â
8:40Â
the waitress comes by, âready to order?â
âoh, iâm⊠iâm still waiting for someoneâ, you say quickly, a fake smile on your face.
âokay, no worries, take your timeâ, the waitress says before she leaves your table.
your stomach twists and you check your phone again - still nothing. you open his chat again and write âare you close?â but you delete it before you send it. you donât want to pressure him or sound too clingy, you donât want to be another thing he has to handle, so you just sit and continue waiting for him.
9:05
now your leg is bouncing under the table as you keep staring at the door. every time it opens, your heart jumps and drops and jumps and drops again. you look at the candle and see it is half melted already. you decide to text him again.
you: are you on your way?
you send it before you overthink it and delete it like the previous one and then, you feel your chest tightening. you know whatâs gonna happen, it has happened before, many, many times. that slow sinking realisation, something came up or someone called him or he-
your phone buzzes and you look at it immediately.
felix: iâm sorry, sunshine
felix: one of the managers suddenly called a meeting
felix: idk how long itâll take
felix: iâm really really sorry, iâll go to yours later, okay?
you stare at the screen and before you realise it, youâre already texting him back.
you: itâs okay
itâs like muscle memory, like breathing and you send it before you can stop yourself. the same little words youâve said a hundred times before because what else are you supposed to say?
itâs okay.
but this time, when you set your phone down, something feels different. you know hearts are not supposed to feel this heavy when things are okay. you look around the restaurant at the other tables - people laughing, talking, clinking glasses, sharing food.Â
you look in front of you, and the chair across from you is empty.Â
you swallow hard, trying to stop the tears from falling, and you tell yourself youâre being dramatic. itâs just dinner, it's just one night, he didnât mean to, heâs working and you know how hard he works - you always know, you always understand.
so why does it feel like your throat is burning?
the waitress comes back again, âdo you want to order something while you wait?â
you force a smile.
âactually, can i⊠cancel the table? iâm sorry for all the troubleâ, you say lowly, like youâre ashamed of saying the words out loud.
âof course, thereâs no problemâ, she says before she leans in and blows out the candle, the tiny smoke trail curling into the air, disappearing with the hope in your chest.
when you get home almost half an hour later, the soft click of the door echoes louder than it should. you step inside slowly, slipping your shoes off by the entrance and setting your bag down on the chair.Â
you stand there for a moment without moving, like you still expect things to feel different just because today is supposed to matter more. you had thought youâd come home happy, smiling, laughing together with his arm around your shoulder. maybe youâd have taken pictures together, with his arm tight around your waist, or of your hands on top of the table with the candle still glowing.
instead, youâre alone in your kitchen, staring at your reflection in the microwave door. and you look fine - your hair done, your makeup still perfect, your outfit carefully chosen.
anyone would think youâre someone who went on a date, not someone who got stood up on their anniversary. the thought makes your heart break, and you immediately shake your head.
no, thatâs not fair. felix didnât stand you up, he had work, itâs different, he didnât mean it.
you keep telling yourself that while you change into your pyjamas and wash your face, then tie your hair up. you move through the apartment quietly, methodically, like if you donât stop walking you wonât have to think too hard about what has happened.
your phone sits on the counter and every few minutes, you look at it - no new texts. he must be in the meeting, you say that again and again. you try not to picture him, tired and hungry and stressed, probably feeling awful for missing your anniversary date.
that image hurts too, because you love him and you donât want him hurting either. and maybe thatâs the problem, that even now, youâre more worried about him than yourself.
time passes and itâs almost midnight when thereâs a soft knock at your door, just four quick taps.
felix.
your heart jumps before your brain catches up and before you realise it, youâre already halfway to the door. you open the door and find felix with his hoodie pulled low, his hair messy like heâs been running his hands through it all night.
he looks exhausted and guilty. so, so guilty.Â
âheyâ, he says the second he sees you.
your chest squeezes painfully because even after everything, the first thing you feel is relief when you see him.
âheyâ, you say softly.
he steps inside and closes the door behind him, then just stands there for a second like he doesnât even know what to do with himself. his hands keep fidgeting with his sleeves, tugging the fabric down over his fingers.
âiâm so sorry, y/nâ, he says quickly, âi swear i tried to leave, but they kept adding stuff and the manager wouldnât let us go and my phone died when i left the building and-â, he swallows hard, âi hate that you had to wait for me, and that you were there all alone. i hate it. iâm really sorryâ
he sounds like a kid who broke something important and itâs now waiting for the punishment. you look at him and every sharp feeling you felt on the way home dissolves into something fragile and delicate. you step closer to him and shake your head gently.
âitâs okayâ, you say.
the words come out automatically again, too easily. he searches your face like he doesnât fully believe you.
âare you sure?â
you nod your head, âyeah, youâre busy. i get itâ
and you do get it. you understand him so well that you barely leave space to understand yourself. he exhales shakily and pulls you into his arms, hugging you with his arms tight around your waist. you melt into him without thinking, pressing your face into his chest.
âhappy anniversary, sunshineâ, he whispers into your hair.
you smile weakly against him.
âhappy anniversary, lixieâ
he kisses your temple, then your forehead before he moves to your cheek, with delicate presses of his lips against your skin, soft and apologetic.
âiâll make it up to you, okay?â, he says, âweâll go somewhere nicer. tomorrow or the next day. anywhere you wantâ
âyou donât have toâ, you say quickly.
but as you say it, something twists quietly inside your chest. because maybe you do want him to, maybe you want him to have to, maybe youâre tired of being the only one who does the waiting all the time.
later, when he falls asleep on your bed with his head in your chest, his breathing slow and deep, you thread your fingers through his hair and stare down at him. he looks peaceful and beautiful, like the boy you fell in love with a year ago.
you trace the freckles on his cheek gently, careful not to wake him.
âi love you, felixâ, you whisper.
and you mean it, you really do, but underneath the warmth, underneath the softness, thereâs a small ache that doesnât go away, a quiet thought you canât shake.
you show up to every concert, you wait backstage for hours, you plan around his schedule, you cancel things for him without even thinking, you wait in restaurants alone. and even though you know he loves you, sometimes it feels like youâre stretching yourself thinner and thinner just to fit into the tiny spaces he has left.Â
you look at him sleeping and your chest hurts with how much you love him and how tired you suddenly feel, but you press a soft kiss to his hair anyway, because even now, even with that ache slowly growing somewhere deep inside you, youâd still wait for him.
the next few days he tries to make it up to you, as if heâs trying to rewrite what happened that night, determined to erase the memory of you sitting alone at that restaurant. he texts you more, calls you whenever he has ten minutes between schedules, sometimes he sends you selfies from the practice room or the recording studio, one day he even sends you flowers to your work.
you tell yourself this is proof that he cares, that youâre not crazy for loving him too much.
one night, he shows up at your place with takeout and a tiny brownie with a candle stuck in it.
âhappy one year and one week, sunshineâ, he says with a big smile on his face.
you laugh and let him in, and the two of you sit on the sofa eating dinner while the candle burns crooked between you. it feels easy and familiar, like it felt when you started dating and your heart settles. maybe you overreacted, you think to yourself. maybe love is adjusting and understanding. maybe this is normal.
another night, you go on a late night walk after one of his late practices. itâs past midnight and the streets are quiet and cool, completely empty. youâre wearing one of his hoodies and your hands are tucked into the pockets while he keeps one arm wrapped around your shoulders.Â
you talk about nothing important - you tell him about a show youâre watching and he tells you about how changbin almost tripped over his own feet that day. you laugh so hard your stomach hurts.
âstopâ, you laugh, grabbing his sleeve.
ânoâ, he grins, âyou look beautiful when you laugh like thisâ
you look at him under the streetlight, his smile matching yours, and your chest feels so full you think it might burst.
this is why you stay.
but then, things start changing again over the next weeks. less calls, less texts and your dates become few and far between. and then, friday night happens.
youâre in your apartment, curled up on your bed with your laptop open, half-watching a movie while you wait for him. heâs supposed to come after practice, just a movie and takeout and finally spend a whole evening together without rushing. youâve been looking forward to it all week.
suddenly your phone buzzes and you see his name lighting up the screen. you grab your phone and smile before you even open the text, but then, you read it.
felix: iâm so sorry, practice got extended again
felix: our manager says we need to stay late, i donât think i can make it tonight :(Â
the smile fades slowly. you stare at the words for a long time, like maybe they will disappear if you stare at them long enough. then, you get another text.
felix: can we rain check? i hate doing this to you
your fingers hover over the screen. you start writing, then delete what you just wrote, then write again.
you: itâs okay! donât worry
send.
you set the phone down carefully, like it will break if you donât. the movie keeps playing, but the voices and laughter sound fake and far away. you close the laptop and stay there for a while, staring at nothing.
your chest starts hurting again but not in the way youâre used to now. itâs worse, somehow.
because itâs dull, numb. like you expected his texts, like some part of you already knew this was gonna happen again and the past few days were just an illusion. you think about tonight and the night at the restaurant. you think about all the times youâve said âitâs okayâ without even thinking if it really is. you think about how youâre always waiting.Â
and suddenly, youâre so, so tired. tired of hoping every plan will happen, of pretending youâre fine when youâre disappointed, of loving someone you barely get to see.
your phone buzzes again.
felix: thank you for understanding, i love you
âi love you tooâ, you whisper it back to the empty room.
but you donât send those words to him.
the next morning you wake up before your alarm, your eyes opening and seeing that soft grey light that comes right before sunrise. for a few seconds, you forget why your chest feels so tight, why your throat burns like youâve been crying in your sleep.
then you remember the texts from last night, felix telling you he loves you in the last text and the way you whispered it back to your room like an idiot, like he could somehow hear through the walls and the city, through the distance that never seems to shrink no matter how hard you try.
you roll onto your side and debate whether to text him good morning or not. you imagine heâs already awake, maybe rushing out the door or maybe too busy to even answer, even though itâs too early for any of that. the thought leaves a sour taste in your mouth.
but then you picture his face when heâs surprised, when he smiles so wide his eyes disappear, when he calls you âsunshineâ like itâs the most natural thing in the world. you miss him, you miss him so much it feels stupid.
so you sit up with a quiet sight and decide, before you can overthink it, that youâre going to go to his dorm to see him, not to talk or fight, just to be together and make up for the date that never happened, to remind both of you that youâre still good.
you carry everything carefully as you walk to his dorm. you feel strangely hopeful, like youâre planning a big surprise for someone you love, like those couples you see in movies. you imagine his reaction - him opening the door and then blinking at you when he sees you there and then breaking into that bright grin - and you rehearse what youâll say âsince you skipped dinner with me, you owe meâ or something like that. something light and teasing, nothing heavy or hurtful.Â
when you reach his dorm, you knock on the door and then hear footsteps shuffling closer before he opens the door. for a split second, you see the surprise you expected - his eyebrows jump and his mouth opens wide.
âwhat- sunshine? what are you doing here?â
you lift the bag so he can see, âbreakfast deliveryâ
youâre ready for the smile, for him to pull you inside while his arms wrap around you to kiss you. but instead, something flickers across his face first - not joy, not excitement, itâs something closer to worry.
itâs gone almost instantly, replaced with a small smile, but you saw it, and it hits you harder than you expect.
âyou didnât have toâ, he says quickly, already stepping aside to let you in, âyou shouldâve slept moreâ
you laugh, trying to shake the weird feeling crawling up your spine, âwow, good morning to you tooâ
âi just mean- you came all the way here this earlyâŠâ
âi wanted toâ, you interrupt him gently.
he nods but he still looks tense, like his brain is somewhere else. you set everything up in the kitchen while he washes his face and brushes his teeth. you can hear the water running, drawers opening and closing quickly, as if he was already late to something.
when he comes back, he presses a quick kiss to your temple and sits down.
âyouâre too good to meâ, he says.
you smile, âi knowâ
for a few minutes, itâs nice. you sit across from each other, your knees bumping under the table, sharing bites and stealing sips of each otherâs drinks. he keeps reaching out absentmindedly to touch you, your wrist, your hand like he needs the contact, and you cling to those touches.
it almost feels normal.
almost.
until you notice how fast heâs eating, how he keeps checking the clock on the wall, how his phone lights up every few seconds with notifications, how he keeps sighing.Â
âyouâre in a rush?â, you ask him, trying to sound casual.
he freezes for half a second.
âumm, well⊠yeah. practice got moved earlier. everyone is already there and i have to leave in like⊠ten minutesâ
ten minutes.Â
you look at the untouched half of your food. you did all this for ten minutes.
âohâ, thatâs all you can say and you hate how small your voice sounds.
âi thought we could.. maybe hang out a bitâ, you add, forcing a smile, âsince yesterdayâŠâ
âi know, i knowâ, he says quickly, reaching for your hand again, âiâm sorry, sunshine. itâs just crazy right now. after this week itâll calm down, i promise youâ
after this week.
but thereâs always an after, thereâs always another thing. another week, another schedule, another practice, another recording, another tour, another reason.
he finishes eating, then stands up and starts gathering his things and the room feels different now, rushed, like youâre just a stop between tasks, like breakfast with you - even if it had been a surprise - was something he had to fit in and not something he actually wanted.
you watch him put his jacket on, then shove his phone into his pocket, mumbling about choreography changes and recording and meetings. youâre still sitting at the table and you feel stupid, like youâre a guest who overstayed or like you misread everything.Â
âheyâ, you say softly.
he hums, distracted, tying his shoes.
âdo you⊠do you want me to leave now?â
he looks up, confused, âwhat? no, you can stay here if you want. iâm sure seungmin wonât mindâ
stay alone in his dorm while heâs gone all day. stay there waiting, again. the thought makes something inside your chest shatter.
âi didnât come here to sit by myself, felixâ
the words slip out before you can stop them and he pauses to look at you.
âwhat? whatâs wrong?â, he says.
you werenât planning to talk about it, you told yourself youâd be easy today, supportive and understanding again. but suddenly, your throat is tight and your eyes sting and everything youâve been swallowing for months starts pushing up.
âi justâŠâ, you laugh weakly, âi feel stupidâ
âstupid? why?â
âbecause i keep planning things that never happen and i keep telling myself itâs fine when itâs not. because i wake up and decide to surprise my boyfriend and then he only has ten minutes for me before he runs out the door againâ
he blinks, hurt flashing across his face, âsunshine, itâs not like that-â
âthen what is it like, felix?â, you ask, softer than you expected.
and the fact that youâre not yelling, shows how exhausted and tired you are. so incredibly tired.
âi know youâre busyâ, you continue, your voice trembling, âi know your job is crazy and iâve never asked you to choose me over it, i would never do that. but sometimes it feels like iâm the only one bending, like iâm always waiting for you and understanding your job and everything and i donât know how much more i can take before i breakâ
the room goes quiet and he looks devastated, like every word you had said had physically hurt him.
âiâm tryingâ, he whispers, âi swear iâm tryingâ
âi know you areâ, you say quickly, âand i know you love me, lixie. i know youâre doing best, but your best still leaves me alone most nightsâ
your voice cracks and thatâs when you realise youâre crying. you didnât want this to happen, you just wanted a normal, quiet morning with your boyfriend.
âi canât keep pretending it doesnât hurtâ, you say, âi canât keep acting like itâs okay every time you cancel, because itâs not okay, felix, itâs not okay for meâ
he runs a hand through his hair, pacing like he does when heâs overwhelmed.
âso what do you want me to do, y/n?â, he asks, almost helpless, âi canât quit, i canât skip practice, i canât- i-â, he stops and sighs, âif i could clone myself i wouldâ
âiâm not asking you to change your careerâ, you say, âiâm asking you to fight for me a little. to make me feel like iâm not just something you squeeze in between your schedulesâ
you look at him and your heart breaks because you still love him so much, but you canât keep doing this, you donât want to. all of that waiting was a sadness that was fading into madness.
âif you want me to sayâ, you whisper, âjust say it. i would stay forever if you tell me not to goâ
the words hang between you, heavy and simple, because this is your limit. you feel like youâre standing on a tightrope alone, holding your breath a little bit longer.
he stares at you like youâre halfway out a door that wonât close and then his lips part, then close, then part again.Â
you can see the war in his eyes - love, fear, guilt, want. he loves you, you know he does. but you also see it, the realisation that loving you might mean hurting you over and over again, that keeping you might be selfish, that asking you to stay might trap you in this endless waiting.
his hands clench at his sides and seconds pass, too many seconds. he doesnât say it, he wants to say it, but he canât.Â
and that silence tells you everything you need to know, and your heart understands before your brain does.Â
slowly, you nod.
âokayâ, you breathe.
you walk to the door and pause, then turn around to look at him one last time before you leave his dorm.
âi love you, felixâ, you say, because that part is still true, it will always be true.
his eyes fill with tears, âi love you tooâ, he says, and itâs the saddest thing youâve ever heard.Â
you exhale and then turn away from him. he sees you cross the door, not being halfway out anymore, but now you're completely out of reach from him. and when the door closes behind you, the click echoes down the hallway, final and quiet, because, deep down, you knew it from the very start, you were a shot in the darkest dark.
event masterlist | the library
likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated đ