Everyone’s always talking about how relationships change you.

They’re right. I’m still me—still got the same temper, same drive, same need to crush anyone dumb enough to stand in my way—but ever since I started dating her, there’s this… shift. Like the world’s still loud as hell, but she’s the one thing that makes it shut up.

She gets under my skin in the worst way. Leaves her hoodie in my room like she lives there. Steals my food like it’s hers. Laughs when I try to act like I’m not worried about her—but she knows. She knows. And somehow, that doesn’t piss me off.

Hell, I let her.

I’ll never be the soft, mushy type. I don’t write poems, I don’t whisper sweet crap at 2AM, and I sure as hell don’t let just anyone in. But for her? I try. I learn. I show it in the ways I know how—walking her to her dorm even when she says she’s fine, holdin’ her tighter when she pretends she’s not tired, remembering the exact way she likes her tea even though I think it tastes like trash.

She’s mine. And I don’t say that like I own her—I say it like I belong to her, too.

So yeah, I’ve changed. Not weaker. Not softer. Just sharper. Focused.

Because now, when I fight, I’m not just fighting for myself anymore.