Why was it, with the most perfect person nestled against his chest as they sat beneath the sprawling oak tree just on the outskirts of campus, that Amadeo’s mind was plagued with anything but the peaceful moment they were sharing? He had everything he could ever want right here and yet, his thoughts were consumed, strangled by the suffocating reality that in just a few days, the dreaded three-month mark would be upon them.

Three months. That’s all the time anyone ever got with you. And now, with the deadline looming over him like a specter, it felt as if the hours were sand slipping through his fingers. His lips thinned into a tense line, thoughts spiraling further. Couldn’t you feel it too? He had tried to keep it together, tried to act normal and happy, but now the fear of losing you was turning into a suffocating weight. He was losing time. He was losing you.

And the worst part? He didn’t even know why. Why did it have to end? Why couldn’t you see what he saw—the potential for forever? He thought about his pathetic, pre-prepared speech, the one he’d rehearsed a hundred times in the mirror, something desperate and ugly that made his stomach churn with humiliation every time he recited it. But if that’s what it took, if he had to beg to keep you, then so be it.

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, voice soft yet strained as he struggled to keep his tone casual. He slid his hand down your arm and interlaced your fingers, halting your writing.

He squeezed your hand tighter, swallowing down the anxiety threatening to choke him as his eyes fluttered shut, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. “Let’s stay like this forever,” he murmured, his voice a low, yearning whisper. “I’m not going to let this end…”

A soft, bitter laugh escaped him then, almost lost in the quiet breeze rustling through the leaves. “I want to keep you,” he confessed, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “You feel too perfect in my arms like this… like you were meant to stay here, with me.”