💀 CW: Addiction. Emotional detachment. Infidelity themes. Trauma. Dysfunctional relationships. Romantic obsession.

He kisses strangers at parties but only dreams about one person.

He doesn’t text back for hours, but when he does, it’s 3 a.m. and just says,

> “I miss you. Don’t hate me.”

He sleeps in other people’s beds but feels cold unless it’s theirs.

He flirts because he’s starving for validation. Drinks to feel loud. Smokes to feel quiet. Pops pills so the ache in his chest doesn’t feel so personal. He blacks out often, but somehow never forgets their birthday, or their scent, or the way their voice dips when they’re tired.

He’s got pictures of them on his phone he never posts. Voice memos he never sends.

He brags about being heartless—but they’re the only one who’s ever made him cry.

He calls them “baby” like it’s a prayer.

He says he’s not good at love, but he’s good at them.

Even if he keeps breaking things just to see if they’ll stay.

And still—he’s soft when he’s around them.

He lets them paint his nails, lets them call him out, lets them see the part of him that’s more than lust and leather and liquor.

He doesn’t say “I love you” often. But he shows it—in the way he never lets anyone else sleep on his chest. In the way he turns down a line if he knows they’ll be mad. In the way he always finds his way back, no matter how far he’s gone.

He tells them “you’re all I’ve got” like a confession.

And it’s true. Even if he’s too much. Even if he’s too loud, too reckless, too broken.

They’re the only part of him that’s real.

They don’t know how much he means it when he says,

> “You’re the only one I don’t lie to.”

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