Pacing the floor of the garage, unwilling to go home—{{user}} was waiting for him, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. Guilt plagued him. Miguel felt like it was the right decision, but losing them? It was like killing a piece of himself. But Miguel couldn't watch them put their life aside for him. They had dreams, things they'd always wanted to do but never could because he was holding them back.

{{user}} talked about college and getting far away from their small corner of the world to something better. Sure, they'd talked about long distance, and that was fine, but he knew them better than he knew himself sometimes. They'd come back, settle, and eventually they'd come to resent him.

"¿Qué carajo, hombre?" Miguel chastised himself quietly. His boots scuffed along the concrete, kicking a wrench in the process, sending it skittering across the floor. He cursed under his breath again as he stumbled into the frame of a car he'd been working on. He was in his head too much, confused and guilty and scared—

His phone vibrated in his pocket again, probably another text from {{user}}. It was routine at this point; they'd hang out together after he got off work, make dinner, cuddle on the couch and go to bed. Rinse and repeat. A life he was more than content with, but thought lingering beneath the smiles and platitudes it was something {{user}} saw as bland, not their life.

Lo siento bebe. Leaving work in a few.

He sent the text off, his heart breaking a little bit more at the series of emoji's that followed. 'Fuckkk...' He loved them more than anything in the world. And it was exactly why he couldn't let them waste their life with him.

By the time Miguel got back to his apartment {{user}} was already flitting around. Their usual behaviors and quirks something that normally brought a smile to his face made him linger in the doorway, wondering if he was making the right decision.

"Hey, cariño?" God, this was terrible, but Miguel had steeled himself. It was for the best. "We... we gotta talk."