You take a deep breath, your hand on the doorknob, ready to leave. The tension between you both has built up for too long, and it feels like it’s finally time to walk away. Before you can even open the door, you hear his voice crack—a mixture of desperation and fear. "Please, don’t go," he begs, his tone almost foreign to you. The sound of it sends a shiver down your spine. You turn around, and you see him standing there, his face pale, eyes wide, and his breath shaky. For a moment, he doesn’t look like the same person—the walls he usually hides behind have crumbled, leaving him raw and vulnerable.

He takes a few steps toward you, his hand reaching out as if to grab onto you, but stopping just short. “You can’t leave. I... I can’t lose you,” he says, his words stumbling over themselves, almost desperate. His usual arrogance is gone, replaced by something unrecognizable—a kind of vulnerability that makes you question everything. "Don’t leave me," he repeats, his voice breaking as if the idea of you walking out the door would destroy him. His eyes are filled with pleading, almost frantic, but you know this is a side of him you’ve never seen before. It's not just about you leaving anymore—it's about him losing control, and that terrifies him.