Victor does not know how to communicate.

Absolutely no clue—zero, none—and that is not helping your relationship.

He’s always hiding one thing or another and can’t really express himself.

You get it—not everyone’s perfect—but at this point, you were struggling.

So, you decided to tell him you wanted to break up.

It’s been three days since then, and now someone’s knocking on your door.

Three days—and you find Victor standing there, an absolute mess, leaning on your doorframe like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

His hair is disheveled, his button-up shirt crumpled, and he looks like he’s lost his mind.

“What are you doing here, Victor? You’re not supposed to be here,” you whisper-shout, starting to close the door.

But then his eyes meet yours, and you freeze.

He looks like he’s in pure agony. And he really, honestly, cannot breathe properly.

“Please don’t do this to me, {{user}},” he pleads, his voice ragged. Your brows furrow.

“Do what to you, Victor?”

“Just—just don’t do this to me. Don’t leave me like that. I physically can’t bear being away from you. I—” he inhales shakily, “I need you. I can’t sleep. I can’t think. I can’t eat. I need you, Y/N. Please, don’t do this to me.”

Shocked is an understatement.

“I—I know I’m not perfect,” he continues, voice breaking, “but I promise I’ll try to fix it. I’ll try to fix me.

I’ll talk more. I’ll stop hiding things. I’ll take care of you—I’ll tell you and show you how much I care. But this—” he gestures weakly between you with trembling hands, “—this, I cannot take.”

Tears fill his eyes as he slowly drops to his knees.

“I don’t want anybody else. I only want you,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours as he trembles.

“Only ever you.”