I knew I shouldn't have trusted him.

That night, everything seemed too good to be true and I still went for it. I still decided to trust him, to trust the person who betrayed me not once, but twice.

It felt like a cruel joke the universe played on me. The moment I had finally gotten better, it just had to crush me again.

Crush me to the point where I wouldn't be able to get up, let alone breathe with ease.

And maybe that's what hurt the most—not the betrayal itself, but the fact that I let myself believe. Believe that people change. That apologies mean something. That this time, I wouldn't be the one left bleeding.

I should've known better. God, I did know better. But hope has a way of slipping in through the cracks, whispering lies dressed as promises. And I clung to them like a lifeline.

Now, all I have are echoes of his voice in my head, and a weight in my chest so heavy it feels permanent. I keep replaying that night—his smile, the way he looked at me like I was the only one in the room. Like I mattered.

But lies wear beautiful faces. And I was a fool for loving his.

I wish I could say he hurt me with words. That he shouted or lied or confessed something cruel. But he didn't. He just stopped showing up. Stopped looking me in the eye. Started walking out of rooms the moment I walked in.

And that silence? That's what cut the deepest. Because I trusted him with the softest parts of me—the scars, the stories, the nights I couldn't breathe. And he knew. He knew exactly what distance does to me. What absence tastes like after abandonment.

So when he started avoiding me like I was some mistake he couldn't stand to remember, it didn't just sting. It wrecked me.

He didn't need to say a word. His silence screamed everything I never wanted to hear.

And now, I'm the one left haunted—asking myself what I did wrong, what made it so easy to leave me this time.

"Maybe he's just scared," Minho spoke, leaning back on the couch and stretching lazily.

"Scared of what? My whole life I was the one who was always scared, not him." I sighed, looking around. "Where the hell is he anyway?"

"Therapy." He answered, getting up quickly. "Want some coffee?"

"Sure."

He nodded, reaching to the kitchen counter and setting water to boil. "All I'm saying is that maybe he needs time, you know? It's a lot to process."

"That's bullshit, he promised he wouldn't avoid me."

"God, you both are so fucking stubborn," He sighed and looked up at the ceiling in defeat. "Sometimes I want to beat some sense into you."

"Why me?! It's not me who's avoiding him!"

"Not just that! You're skipping classes, you're clearly not doing well, you haven't been in therapy for how long, three months? You can't keep living like this!"

"I'm fine."

"No you're not!" He yelled, making me jump in surprise. "Thomas told me that you seemed like you were high on a damn lecture! What the hell were you even thinking?!"

"I wasn't high! I was drunk."

"Like it makes the situation any better!"

"Look I know I haven't been doing good, okay? I know I fuck up a lot of things but I was committed to this. After that night I tried so hard to get better. I haven't taken any type of substances for two weeks, that's something!"

He sighed, looking at me as his expression softened completely. "You need to talk to him. He has a lot going on and that's why he's avoiding you."

"You're just trying to defend him."

"Honestly yes, I am, because he didn't abandon you, Newt. He's struggling, and with everything that has happened to Mabs—"

"It's not just Mabel though, is it? There's more and you're not telling me."

"That's because he has to be the one to tell you."

"Why? Is it personal?"

"Yes. I told him to tell you, but he refused. Don't push it, but ask. Make him feel that it's okay to struggle, you know?"

"When did you get so wise?"

He chuckled, setting a cup of coffee in front of me. "When did you get so soft?"

"I was never tough."

"And I was never dumb."

​​・・・・・​​⟢

As I left the dorm, I saw Kallias leaning against the wall at the back of the campus, right near the maintenance shed where barely anyone passed this time of day. His hood was up even though it wasn't cold, head turned away like he was trying to disappear into the brick.

I paused, not because I didn't expect him there—but because I had. I'd started walking this way on purpose, hoping maybe today he wouldn't vanish before I caught sight of him.

He hadn't seen me. Or if he had, he was pretending not to. He was good at that now—acting like I didn't exist. Slipping out of rooms, avoiding eye contact, but still, there I was, standing a few feet away, pathetic enough to hope this would be the time he stayed.

That he'd look up. That he wouldn't flinch. That he'd just acknowledge me.

"Hey," my voice held a careful tone. I didn't want to startle him, but he seemed surprised anyway.

He turned to leave without a word, like to him, I was some kind of plague he didn't want to catch.

I reached out, holding his wrist tightly. "What is it with you huh?! Did I do something? At least tell me if I did something, tell me if I messed up!"

"Let go."

"No," my voice wavered. "Tell me what I did, please."

"You didn't do anything, I was just confused that night, that's all."

"Confused?" I scoffed, unconsciously tightening my grip on his wrist. "You initiated a kiss twice, is that what you call being confused?!"

"Newt—"

"What's up with you?"

"I was confused." He gritted his teeth, repeating the same thing stubbornly.

Before I could realize what was happening, I had slammed him against the wall, yelling in his face. "Don't lie to me!"

My eyes flickered on his lips for a second before I looked into his eyes again. "Don't lie to me." My tone was somewhat pleading now. "I've never wanted something this badly, Kallias. I want to hate you, I do. But I can't stay away from you. Please stop forcing me to stay away."

"I'm scared, okay? Is that what you want to hear? Will it make it okay that I'm running from you? From this?!"

"Why are you scared, why! That's what I want to know! You're never scared so what happened now, huh?!"

"I'm not sure I won't hurt you again."

"What are you even talking about? Why would you—"

"I have a disorder, Newt. A bad one. I won't always be the version you love. I won't always be up for this relationship, and I won't show up when you want me to."

I froze, backing away slightly. "What disorder..?"

"It's called a Dissociative Identity Disorder. It's when—"

His voice faded away after those words, leaving a silence that felt too heavy for air. Dissociative Identity Disorder. Three words that should've shattered me, but instead, they threaded through me like a quiet, inevitable truth.

I stood there, trying to catch my breath, and suddenly, everything I'd felt—the confusion, the anger, the hurt—shifted. It all made sense now. Why he hadn't remembered the rumor. Why he hadn't remembered that night, that kiss. Why, in his eyes, I had sometimes felt like a stranger.

He hadn't remembered. And it was never about me. Not really.

But still, the ache inside me didn't dull. Because knowing the reason didn't take away the fact that I had loved him, in spite of the distance he had put between us. In spite of the silence that echoed through every room we'd ever shared.

He hadn't chosen to forget me—he hadn't chosen any of this. He had been caught between pieces of himself he couldn't control, lost in a battle inside his own mind. And I could see it. I could feel it, that fight, that fracture, and it hurt more than anything else had.

I wanted to reach for him, to hold him, to tell him it was okay. That I understood. But in the space between us, there was a sorrow deeper than I knew how to voice.

Because even now, I loved him. All of him. Even the parts that couldn't remember me. Even the parts that had hurt me without knowing.

It was in that silence that I realized that sometimes, love doesn't need to be remembered to still exist.

"You know that changes nothing, right?"

"...What?" He let out a shaky breath, looking at me with glassy eyes.

"I don't care about the disorder, Kallias. It doesn't change my feelings for you, if anything it just makes me realize that nothing that happened to us was your fault."

"No but you shouldn't stay, see—"

I shook my head, leaning my forehead against his. "That's not on you to decide. You need me, even if you won't admit it. And I need you more than anything in this world. So stop avoiding me for god's sake and accept my help."

I've touched him, kissed him, felt him close, and yet—he's still a million miles away. It's not enough. It'll never be enough. My heart aches with the thought that even when he's in my arms, a part of him is somewhere I can't reach, and I can't help but yearn for him even more. For every piece of him I can't have, for every moment we should've had but didn't. It's like I've already given him everything, and still, I find myself wanting more. Always more.

And now that I've finally gotten close to him, I know I won't let him go. Even if parts of him are locked away, even if he keeps pulling back, I won't let that stop me. I'll stay, even when he pulls away, because every moment with him is a moment I can't lose. He's not just a part of my world—he's the place where everything I've ever needed to make sense finally does. And I'll hold on, even when the pieces of him that reach me aren't enough.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚