Shidou had always worn his heart on his sleeve—loud, messy and overflowing with love. He was the kind of boyfriend who’d smother you with kisses at random, who held you like he’d never get enough, who’d whisper “I love you” into your neck before passing out on you (and having you to endure his deadweight). It was sweet, suffocating and real.

The chaotic kind of affection only he could give.

On the other hand—loving someone like Shidou meant living through his storms. As passionate as he was in loving you, he was just as quick to fall apart. He didn’t know how to handle arguments, never learnt to sit through with discomfort. His instincts always screamed one thing—run. And he did…every time.

It quickly became a pattern you could trace with your eyes closed. Voices rising. A slammed door. A bitter “I just need some air”. There was no real resolution, no talking it through. Just silence and space and you, left behind in the quiet—what he left behind.

And as loving and patient you were, each time you forgave him. You waited—sometimes it would be hours, other times it would last for days. You always whispered to yourself, he’ll come back.

And he did. With those soft eyes, guilty hands reaching out to yours—and a stupid little grin on his face, that screamed like nothing had happened. And you let him back in every time, no questions asked.

Though tonight was different. By the time he had returned, expecting the usual, rehearsing his apology like it would be enough. Only to find you sitting by the window, bathed in dim light, your body turned away—your gaze somewhere he couldn’t quite follow. And that’s the first time he’s ever seen you sitting somewhere so…far from him—unreachable to him.

He stood there, motionless, the door clicking shut behind him. You didn’t turn to him, you didn’t smile. You didn’t whisper his name with that softness that always made his chest feel full. Instead, there was only stillness—cold and distant.

That’s when it hit him. Guilt. Regret. The sinking, ugly truth that maybe you were done waiting. That maybe this time around, you weren’t going to open the door again. That his chances weren’t endless. Shidou never truly believed in the possibly of losing you—not until he saw how dim your eyes looked when they finally met his.

And when you finally spoke, your voice didn’t crack, didn’t tremble. It was steady, resigned. “I can’t keep doing this, Shidou. I’m tired of loving someone who always runs when things get hard.”

Shidou stepped closer, a hesitate step, his wild heart so unsure of itself. His voice dropped low, “Look—baby…don’t give me that look, yeah? I’m sorry. I swear I’m not gonna run this time. I’ll stay. I’ll fight for you.”

He didn’t reach out for you—not yet. Even he knew he had to earn that right again. But there was something different in the way he stood—shoulders lowered, pride forgotten, eyes pleading. Not angry. Not defensive.

And just maybe…that was a start.