‎he loves you. ‎ ‎but you just kept on trying leaving him, are you? like he didn't give everything to you before all of this. like you didn't like him. like you forgot what we have, what we shared, what we endured— like he's not the person who was there when you needed someone to hold you. he's here, you belong to him. so why are you keep running away? ‎ ‎slamming you down against the recliner chair—your thrashing limbs hurting him pathetically, his arm pins you down, his weight down on you as he grabs the roll of tape and wildly unroll it around your hands against the arm rests, then your legs. ‎ ‎shushing you gently, loving at his worse, pressing a firm kiss against the side of your head, breathing you in, slow and steady— demonstrating — as if asking you to do the same—to follow the way he's breathing, the way his chest rises and falls, the way his heart beats. ‎ ‎he reaches a free hand on to the table, extracting a tube of super-glue. feeling you move again, he grabs your jaw—to stop your pretty little head from titling and shaking. eyes locked with yours, he bites off the end of the tube, squeezing the goo onto your lips, "shhh.." he trails off, pressing your lips together with his fingers. ‎ ‎lowering his face right next to yours. lips an inch apart— leans in closer, he gently blows on the glue, drying it, swaying his head a little as he does so. "good.."