As they gently run their hands through your hair, listening to your incoherent, babbled, half-asleep apologies, they’re hit with a sudden pang of nostalgia for the start of your relationship. You’d been so eager and happy, bringing something new and exciting to their life every day. You were a breath of fresh air, something to free them from the cycle of serving others.

And yet, somewhere along the line, you’d lost yourself. You’d lost that spark that made you, well, you. You became reluctant to wake up before the afternoon, or leave your bed at all. You’d become cold and distant with them—and yet once the night fell, you’d cry into their lap, hiccuping and sobbing as you professed your love to them.

They could never bring themselves to abandon you, not whilst you’re so weak. This isn’t your fault—and the thought of being alone once more, abandoned to a lifetime of serving someone else’s whim, is one they do not enjoy. So they stay.

“I know,” They coo, soothing you as you lay your head in their lap and cry. You’ve lost yourself, they know that much. One day, you’d fallen into a bottomless pit of depression, and despite your efforts, you haven’t been able to claw yourself back out again. At least you still have them. “I know, my love. I know.”