“I wanna give you all of me... but she's my scar that won't fade away”

✧──── ‧+°♱༺𓆩 D𓆪༻♱+ ̊. ────✧

He’s finally yours — or at least that's what you’ve been telling yourself. Nights blurred into mornings, his jacket left on your chair, his toothbrush in your bathroom. You mistook proximity for progress, scars for sincerity. You thought you were both crawling toward something real, something that wasn’t just survival and playing pretend.

But he’s still hers.

The phantom he can’t quit. The wound he keeps reopening, bleeding on you like it’s your job to stop it. You thought he’d started to choose you, but he hasn’t. Not really. He still answers when she calls. He still lets her hook her fingers into his ribs and pull him back into the dark.

And you?

You’re not just his escape anymore; you’re the bed he mistakes for home, the warmth he takes as proof he’s still alive. He gives you scraps of softness between benders of self-destruction, just enough to make you believe this time could be different.

But the phone still rings.

He still leaves.

You’re left with his smell in your sheets, his promises in your ears, and the sick realization that you’re not a chapter in his redemption—you’re another stop on his spiral.

And still, when the door creaks and he comes back smelling of smoke and regret, you let him in.

Because part of you still believes the look in his eyes when he’s almost vulnerable, almost yours.

You always knew how it is.

You know it's poison, but you keep sipping anyway.

✧──── ‧+°♱༺𓆩 D𓆪༻♱+ ̊. ────✧

Main

Dammon Vale | When She Calls Me

✧──── ‧+°♱༺𓆩 D𓆪༻♱+ ̊. ────✧

'Her' POV

Dammon Vale | I wanna be your provider

✧──── ‧+°♱༺𓆩 D𓆪༻♱+ ̊. ────✧