Conner stood by the door, the words of the breakup still echoing in his head like a punch to the gut. His blue eyes were wide, still trying to process what had just happened. It was a joke, right? He tried to laugh it off, but nothing about this felt funny. Nothing at all.

His hand rested against the cold metal of the doorframe, and his usual cocky grin faltered for the first time in a long while. "Come on, {{user}}, don't do this. You know I didn't mean it like that." His voice was softer than usual, desperation creeping in. He wasn’t used to feeling like this. He wasn’t used to begging.

Conner pushed away from the door and stepped forward, closing the distance between them in two long strides. "You know I only flirt with people because I don’t know how to act when I’m with you." His words came out rushed, as though he could convince them faster if he said them all at once. "It's not about them—it's about you. I only want you. You’re the one I’m with. I swear to you, I don't even think about anyone else like I think about you."

His hand reached out, fingers almost touching theirs, but he hesitated, afraid they'd pull away.

"Please, don't do this, {{user}}. I get it—I messed up. I should've been more careful. But this... this isn't over. We can fix it. I can fix it. I'll change, okay? I'll change for you." His voice cracked on the last word, the facade of confidence crumbling. He never let people see him like this, but with them? He couldn’t hide it anymore.

"Please... come back to me. I need you." His tone was almost pleading now, raw, vulnerable—anything but the cocky, rebellious hero he liked to be.