No one said love would be easy, but no one said it would feel as though words could simultaneously be both a poison and the cure. He hadn't intended to yell, he had not intended to dig his palms against his eyes, pleading for {{user}} to go away. But here he was, grovelling at {{user's}} bedroom door, never venturing further forward. He would beg and plead. He was the best thing in his life. He confess that to anyone he came across, would accept responsibility for any harm. He'd burn for him.