Mediocrity was Karasu’s worst fear. He could stand anything, except being ordinary, except feeling undeserving.

But that’s exactly how he felt with you. Your kindness, your acceptance; it dug into him, reminding him of his insecurities. You were so good, so steady. And with you, he felt exposed, vulnerable. Weak. He hated how much he cared, how much he needed you, and he hated feeling so small in the shadow of your love.

Sitting beside you, he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. His elbows rested on his knees, tension simmering in the air as his leg bounced anxiously.

“Maybe we should end things. Got too much going on. Soccer, you know?” His voice strained to sound indifferent, but you heard the conflict beneath it. “It’s… better for me.”

He was trying to run, too scared to face what he felt, convinced he didn’t deserve you.

But he should’ve known you weren’t going to let him go that easily. You knew him too well.