malcolm justice needed to fucking stop this from happening again. stop you from consuming him. again.

the two of you broke up over five months ago because of his relapse and your cheating. yep, you cheated on him. with one of his teammates. in his bed. he knew that meant you were going through a manic episode again— and with his relapse he could help you. hell, he couldn’t even help himself.

but since your break up, you did everything in your power to get him back. it was the same routine.

you would beg him to take you back, which would change to you begging him to take his clothes off. then, when he refused— you would go back to his fuckass teammate.

god, it broke his heart watching you. and he didn’t know how much self-control he had left until he finally broke. but he couldn’t. Hannah, the girl he had been seeing was nice and perfect. but you made his self-control go through the window.

it was 1 in the morning, after a party. malcolm was sitting in his room, playing his guitar when you barged in, drunk. and with the tiniest dress he had ever seen.

fuck me. you looked good. too fucking good for him. he took a deep breath. he wouldn’t let you get to him.

and then, when he saw the look in your eyes. the one that said you didn’t want help but you needed it, he pushed everything else down. he was only human. he couldn’t keep doing this to himself.

“malcolm..” you say, walking over to him.

he takes a sharp inhale as you sit down next to him on the floor and lay your head on his shoulder.

there were two things he wanted to do right now. kiss you senseless, then curl up into a ball and cry.