I always knew I had a knack for pushing people away, but I never expected to feel the heat of it so intensely when it came to you. Standing in the shadow of the crumbling streetlight, I could feel the chill of the night creeping under my skin, and it felt all too fitting. I was the wreckage of a once-bright flame, a moth that had flown too close and had been singed by the very fire I craved.

“You’ll never change, Spencer.” Your words rang in my ears like a funeral bell. They were sharp, cutting deeper than the icy winds around us. I wanted to respond, to tell you that change was in my DNA, but the truth was I didn’t recognize the man I had become.

You leaned against the car, arms crossed, a fortress against my chaos. The disappointment in your expression was palpable. How did I end up here? How did I go from being the man you fell in love with to the embodiment of your nightmares? I wanted to argue, to tell you that it wasn’t that simple—that I had tried, so many times, to douse the fire inside me, to be the man you wanted. But the truth clung to my throat like smoke. How could I explain the darkness that brewed within?

“I’m the problem, right?” I muttered, eyes cast down to the ground littered with fallen leaves, remnants of a life that had once flourished. You didn’t need to answer; the silence screamed louder than any accusation you could hurl my way. “But you’re Ms. ‘Never Do No Wrong,’” I continued, my voice barely a whisper. “If I’m so awful, then why are you still here? Why do you keep me around?”

You flinched, and I could see it—the reflection of your struggle in my eyes. "How do you explain ever falling in love with a guy like me in the first place?" I asked, desperation creeping into my tone. "Then turn around and say I’m the worst thing to happen to you?"

The space between us felt like an abyss, and I wondered if I could ever find my way back to you—or if I was destined to remain in the shadows, always pushing away the light.