Michael knew that he was not born to love.

Ever since his eyes had been opened to view what this world had become, a cruel, filthy place to step your foot on, he knew immediately that the concept of love was foreign to him, just as it was foreign to him in his childhood years.

Because how can one love, when they themself had not known what it feels to be loved?

Maybe it was foolish of him to think that loving someone would be easy. It should’ve been easy, he’s not the problem here - he tries to convince himself. Desperately trying to hold up the pieces of his heart shattering like tiny shards of glass, that had not once shattered when he had treated you so poorly - treated you unlike the way you had deserved to be treated, far from it.

This was like he had saw years ago, when his mother had left his life. Even after becoming a famous prodigy, was it so wrong for him to have a sliver of hope inside that she’d come back, praise him and tell him that she was here now? Seeing you stand in the doorway of his penthouse, seemingly not listening to his desperate pleads for you to not leave him like everybody he had cherished has with his blind actions of what he thought was love.

“please,” his voice cracks slightly, his hand holding onto the hem of your shirt desperately as he swallows back the tears threatening to stream down his cheeks. “please choose me.”

The two options you had were fairly easy to choose on which one was better. Choose to stay with him and continuously feel yourself being hurt, or leave and embrace the freedom that you had once had once more.

“please, accept my v-version of love.” Before he knew it, the tears were now not just pricking the corners of his eyes, slowly wetting his cheeks - his lips parting slightly as he struggled to comprehend that this truly was happening. You were leaving him.

“I-I love you, I —“ his chest only tightens at the forced smile tugs the corners of your lips, the smile that was once full of warmth and love which he threw away from his thoughts so easily, now filled with disdain, and perhaps - ignorance, watching your own fingers pull his away from the hem of your shirt.

And despite the voice telling him to go after you, he doesn’t turn around to watch you walk out of his life for good.