The question came out of nowhere.

You were lying on the floor of his apartment, staring at the ceiling, listening to Adrian talk about something random—movies, maybe, or how dogs should vote—when he suddenly went quiet.

Too quiet.

You turned your head.

He was sitting up now, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together like he was bracing himself.

“Hey,” you said. “You okay?”

He didn’t look at you.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

The way he said it made your chest tighten.

“Yeah,” you said slowly.

Adrian swallowed.

“Would you still love me,” he asked, “if I killed someone for you?”

The room went still.

Your heart thudded once. Hard.

You sat up.

“Adrian—”

“No, no, listen,” he rushed, words tumbling out. “I’m not saying I did. Or that I would. I just— I need to know.”

You studied him.

The jittery energy. The tension in his shoulders. The way he looked scared—not dangerous.

“Why are you asking me that?” you asked softly.

He laughed under his breath. “Because I already know the answer, and I hate it.”

You reached out, touching his arm. He flinched, then relaxed.

“Adrian,” you said, “talk to me.”

He finally looked at you.

His eyes were dark. Serious. Bare.

“I kill people,” he said quietly. “And sometimes I don’t feel bad right away. Sometimes I feel… justified. Useful.”

You stayed silent.

“And the messed-up part?” he continued. “If someone hurt you—really hurt you—I don’t think I’d hesitate.”

Your throat tightened.

“And I don’t know if that makes me loyal,” he whispered, “or just broken.”

You took a slow breath.

“Is that what you think love is?” you asked. “Killing for someone?”

He shook his head quickly. “No. I think it’s what I am.”

You moved closer, sitting in front of him.

“Adrian,” you said gently, “I don’t want you to kill for me.”

He nodded, like he expected that.

“But,” you continued, “I also won’t pretend I don’t know what you’re capable of.”

His jaw clenched.

“So?” he asked. “Would you still love me?”

You didn’t answer right away.

Instead, you asked, “Would you tell me first?”

He blinked. “What?”

“If you felt like you were going to cross that line,” you said. “Would you come to me before you did something you couldn’t take back?”

He thought for a moment.

Then nodded. “Yeah. I think… yeah. I would.”

You reached up, cupping his face.

“Then that’s what matters,” you said. “Not whether you’d kill for me—but whether you’d choose me instead.”

His eyes filled, just slightly.

“So you’re not saying yes,” he said.

You smiled sadly. “I’m saying I love you as you are. But I won’t be the reason you become something worse.”

He let out a shaky breath.

“You’re still here,” he said.

“Yes,” you said. “But not because you’d destroy the world for me.”

You leaned your forehead against his.

“I love you because you’re trying not to.”

Adrian closed his eyes.

And for the first time, the thing he feared most wasn’t losing you—

It was becoming someone who didn’t deserve to stay.