How could you love something as broken as him?

Every time he looked in mirror, he wished for the walls of the room to just crumble over him, he wished for the floor to swallow him and for the shadows to drape over him like a black curtain, never to let him come face to face with anyone again.

And yet you, you, the person it hurt the most to look at, continued to draw constellations around those ugly markings that would probably never fade. With every lingering touch, every soft hum and blooming smile, the pit in his stomach widened, the need for confirmation, for reassurance growing by the moment.

Because it made no sense. Right? He had been insufferable before, no doubt, but now he was twisted and tainted like a malfunctioning toy, something broken, something that no longer worked right.

And yet you loved him. Every second, every minute, every hour, every day. You loved him. And that was his most beautiful dream and his worst nightmare come to life.