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“Because I am scarred by the fire you started in me. Because you have reduced me to fucking ashes.”
“Because I ache for you,” he breathed against my lips next. “And I’ll end anyone who touches what’s mine.”
We couldn’t talk about it, because if we talked about it, it might end. But we couldn’t not talk about it, or it’d kill us.
“I don’t want casual,” he continued. “I don’t want to pretend that I’m not yours in every way there is to belong to someone, that I don’t yearn for you to be mine in the same way. I don’t want to hide. I don’t want to keep having my heart fucking demolished at the thought of this all ending at any minute.”
I don’t expect to ever have the chance to hold your heart in my hands again. But I need you to know this,” I said, stepping toward her. “You hold mine. You own mine. For now, forever, regardless of what happens next. And even if you hate me for the rest of your life, I need you to know that I love you.”
He loved me, and I’d turned my back on him, judging and executing him at the first sign of him not being perfect.
“Somebody who betters you,” I started. “Somebody who inspires and encourages you in love and in life, who pushes you toward dreams and goals you’d otherwise ignore, who selflessly sacrifices their time to help you become a more courageous, well rounded and happy human being. That’s sacred,” I said, swallowing before I finished. “You hold on to a love like that.”
“But I can promise you that I will show up for you, every day, and work to be a better person for you. To be the person you see in me that I can’t just yet.”