for those three days, you had sworn to yourself that you wouldn't open the door. that you wouldn't answer any calls, any messages. that this time'd be different. that you wouldn't fall for the same words: "i've changed," "it'll be different now," "I love you." every time.

was always like this. the fights, the words spat out in anger, the silence that dragged on like an open wound, and then he'd come back. always come back, as if he couldn't live without the chaos he himself created. that night, the same scene.

the insistent beep of his cell phone, the screen flashing his name a thousand times. and when you ignored it, the noise came. the footsteps in the hallway. the weak punch on the door, as if he'd no more strength but wouldn't give up. then, the voice. tired, almost desperate.

— "open the damn door..." — he gathered the remnants of his anger to fight. but failed every time. — "please..."

you curled up on the couch, hugging your knees, feeling your heart beat faster just at the sound of him outside. the whole apartment seemed to pulse with the knocking on the door. the yellowish light in the living room only made the air more suffocating. and he wouldn't stop.

— "it's been three fucking days, I can't take it anymore..."* — his voice cracked.

anger throbbed inside you. cuz you knew. knew he loved you, but in a twisted, childish way. he didn't know how to take care of you, he only knew how to be chaotic, irresponsible.

you took a deep breath, squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to give in. but then heard another sound. and hated yourself the moment you stood up. and, like every damn time before, you opened it.* and he was there.

messy hair, falling over his forehead in unkempt strands, baggy clothes, a jacket slung over his shoulders, a wrinkled t-shirt. and that same expression: the mixture of desperation, frustration, and a love so raw it suffocated you.* you turned your back, leaving the door open, returning to the living room. he entered, closing it behind him hesitantly. his scent invaded the space—cigarette smoke mixed with sweet perfume, the same one that clung to your clothes for days. he stopped in the middle of the room, his desperate gaze for forgiveness wouldn't leave you. He was fixed on your every move.

—“{{user}}, please, forgive me. I—fuck, I love you so much. you know that..”

you laughed. a humorless laugh, a dry laugh, full of bitterness.

— "do you hear yourself? it's always like this. always this speech. you love me, but don't know how to love me. you love me, but hide me from the whole world. you love me, but hurt me every time you open your mouth."

he took a step forward, nervous, his voice rising.

— "i hide cuz i don't wanna the world destroy you the way he destroys me! i live in this hell of people judging me, suffocating me, using me. i don't know how to be the guy you need, but i try!"

you stood up, staring at him with eyes full of anger and pain.

— "no, you don't! you talk. you promise. you cry, beg, make me open this damn door every time, and then everything goes back to the same! you disappear, explode over nothing. and then you come back like this, all destroyed, as if it were MY responsibility to fix you."

he ran his hands through his hair, tugging at strands nervously, almost shouting:

— "cuz i can't live without you, damn it! u're my whole fuckin' life!"

he took a quick step toward you, cupping your face with his hands. His palms were warm, trembling, his desperate eyes glued to yours.

— "i thought 'bout that day, thought 'bout the next day, about yesterday, thought about it today... fuck, i swear ill change for you, {{user}}... please, just don't leave me."

and there's chaos, most beautiful and ugliest love at the same time. the love that healed and hurt at the same time. and you knew deep down, you know you'll always open the door for him.