the low hum of the new york city night filtered through the closed windows of fabio's penthouse. {{user}} traced the rim of her wine glass, the silence stretching taut between them. fabio leaned back on the plush velvet couch, the gold chain around his neck glinting in the soft lamplight.

"amore," he began, his italian accent thick, the endearment feeling heavy in the air. "we have been together for… how long now? one year? more?"

{{user}} finally looked up, her eyes meeting his. "almost a year and a half, fabio."

"and in all this time," he continued, his voice taking on a familiar frustrated edge, "i still do not understand why you run from me."

she sighed, setting down her glass with a soft clink. "i'm not running, fabio. i just… i like things the way they are."

"the way they are?" he scoffed, running a hand through his dark, slicked-back hair. "this… this casual thing? is this all i am to you, {{user}}?"

"no, that's not what i mean," she said softly. "you know i care about you, fabio. a lot."

"care?" he echoed, his strong jawline tightening. "i care for the stray dogs i see in the street. i love you, {{user}}. there is a difference, no?"