He never really got why you made such a big deal out of everything. Why you always had something to say, why you got so worked up over the smallest things he did or didn’t do. Kaiser never saw the need for all that fuss. Especially when, in his mind, you were never going to leave anyway. Whatever this thing between you was. Not quite a relationship, not quite nothing. Somewhere in the middle. And to him, that was fine. Or at least, that’s what he kept telling himself. You were close, but not too close. Intimate, but never enough to scare him off. Kaiser always told himself he had control over the way things played out. Love wasn’t even part of the equation.

Even when you hit him with those questions: What are we? What does this even mean?, he never gave a real answer. Just brushed it off, told you to stop overthinking and keep that pretty mouth shut. Thinking too hard meant confronting things, and Kaiser didn’t want to do that. Not with this. He could talk about the impossible like it was nothing, but this? The reality of you? That was a different kind of impossible he didn’t want to touch.

To care for someone like that, to let them in, fully? Heart, soul, mind? That wasn’t him. Why would he want that? Why would he ever need that? He was Michael fucking Kaiser. He didn’t need anyone, not like that. He made it this far alone, nineteen years of relying on no one but himself, and he wasn’t about to start cracking now.

At least… that’s what he kept telling himself.

He started noticing it a few weeks ago. He’d hit you up, ask to come by. Your replies got short, always saying you were tired or busy. At first, he didn’t care. If you wanted to play hard to get, that was fine. Kaiser could do that too. He even told himself this distance was probably better, convinced himself he didn’t mind.

But then you stopped answering his calls. Your texts turned to dry, empty replies, only enough to acknowledge him but never enough to actually talk. It made his chest feel weird. Not hurt. Just… irritated. Annoyed. Maybe his ego was a little bruised. He was supposed to be the one keeping things at arm’s length, not you.

Were you actually pulling away this time? After everything? After years of this undefined, confusing mess, were you really deciding to let go? Kaiser scoffed at the idea, there was no way. You always came back. Always. But even then, the questions you used to ask kept circling in his head like they never really left.

Two weeks. No real contact. Cold messages. No warmth. And then, one afternoon, he caught sight of you leaving your place. He was already leaning on your car, casual as ever, like you were the one showing up unannounced. His arms were folded, weight shifted to one leg, giving you that look like you were the inconvenience here. Which to him, you kind of were.

When he noticed you were trying to ignore him, he caught your wrist with a scoff “What’s with you, huh? Don’t act like you’re really about to cut me off. We both know you never stay gone for long…”

And that was the problem. Kaiser was too confident, too damn sure of himself. He couldn’t even wrap his head around the idea that you might actually be done. That maybe you wanted something more than what his cold, cocky heart could ever give you.

But something felt different this time. The way you looked at him. It didn’t feel like a threat, or a bluff. It felt real. Almost final “Why does this have to be anything?” he said harshly. “Do labels even matter that much? Seriously?”

Still, even then, he tugged you back. Just a little. As if deep down, he already knew he was losing you.