inspired by Runaway - Kanye West

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You should’ve left a hundred times before you finally did.

Rafe Cameron was the kind of storm you mistook for passion. You met him when you still believed in fixing people. He was magnetic and hollow in places no one could reach — but you tried anyway.

You stayed through the disappearances, the outbursts, the mood swings. Even through the cold shoulder he’d give you whenever you asked what happened.

He never hit you — no. But words can leave marks too. And they used to hit harder when they came from someone you loved.

“You’ve been puttin’ up with my shit just way too long,” he muttered once, eyes refusing to meet yours.

He said it like it was a joke. Like it was sweet that you stayed. But you didn’t laugh.

He’d push you away any time you got too close. If you tried to talk about his thoughts, his past, his fear — he’d twist it, change the subject, or pick a fight. He’d say, “Don’t start that therapist shit.”

You thought love would be enough to soften him. Maybe if you just held on longer, proved you weren’t going anywhere, he’d finally open up.

It became a cycle. You’d stay, he’d burn things down, and you’d pick up the pieces.

Until one night, he came home and you were waiting for him in the living room, standing up.

“You win. I’m done.” That’s the only thing you tell him as your eyes meet.