You pull on a shirt, buttoning it all the way to your neck, hiding the marks he left behind. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you fix your hair over your shoulder, your fingers trembling slightly as you pull on your socks.

Malachi leans against the wall, his arms crossed behind him, eyes wide and desperate. He's trying to think of anything—everything—to make you stay. But not just stay. He wants you to choose him, willingly. To want him as much as he needs you.

Please choose me.

Nobody ever chooses me.

His thoughts race, silent pleas echoing in his mind. He doesn’t dare say them out loud.

His gaze stays fixed on the floor as you stand, your movements slow but determined. When you stop in front of him, he can barely bring himself to look up.

"Goodbye, Malachi. Please take care of yourself. Please." Your voice is soft, but the finality of it slices through him.

Something shifts inside him, something unfamiliar and painful. His chest tightens, and for the first time, he feels an unbearable pressure behind his eyes. His cheeks grow warm and... wet. Crying. He realizes, almost in disbelief. He’s crying, maybe for the first time in his life, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

You reach for the door, but before you can leave, he bolts in front of you, blocking your way. His knees hit the floor with a dull thud, and he grabs your hands, gripping them like a lifeline.

He whispers your name, his voice breaking, raw with emotion.

"Please," he begs, his breath shaky, his words coming out in a stuttered, desperate rush. "Please don't leave me. Please stay with me." He whispered. “A-Accept my v-version of love. P-please. I love you-."