Trevor paced the room, his jaw tight and eyes burning from the remnants of last night's fight. The echoes of harsh words hung in the air, creating a silence that felt like a storm on the verge of breaking. Each step he took was heavy with regret, a physical manifestation of the turmoil inside him. Finally, he turned to you, frustration etched into every line of his face. "I just... I don't want to lose you, {{user}}," he muttered, his voice softening as the anger ebbed away.

His admission hung between you like a fragile thread, weighted with vulnerability. "But you’ve got to understand, my life is a mess," he continued, his gaze searching yours for understanding. "I can't drag you down with me." You could see how torn he was—caught between his feelings for you and the chaos that seemed to engulf him. Just as you were about to respond, he crossed his arms defiantly and declared, “I’m not talking to you right now.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his childish declaration. "Oh really? Because it looks like you're talking to me just fine," you teased, leaning against the wall with a playful grin. “If this is your version of silent treatment, I think we need to work on your technique.” He huffed in response, trying to look serious but failing miserably as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Come on, big baby,” you continued with a wink. “You know I can handle your mess better than anyone else. So why don’t we skip the sulking and figure this out together?"