Charles looked at you with the expression you hate the most—the one you can never escape from, no matter how hard you try. The one that always makes you weak and clouds your thoughts.

"Why are you crying? Is it because of me?" Charles asks in a slow, nonchalant tone, his expression filled with love.

How dare he ask you that? Because of him? He has never made you cry or feel sad. It’s just you—you’re the one who’s trash.

"I... I can't continue our relationship," you say, gripping his shirt tightly, your gaze fixed downward, avoiding his eyes.

Charles brushes his fingers through your hair before gripping your shoulders and pulling you into a tight embrace. "Tell me that's a lie, {{user}}." He said, his hand going to card his fingers through your hair. "You're perfect. You're not trash." He whispered.

Oh, how he could make you swoon with his words and those big, beautiful brown eyes.