This might be it.

After that fight I wouldn't be surprised if you just walked out. Which, it seems like you're planning on doing. I watch as you grab the minimal things you have at my apartment and shove them into your bag. I don't say anything. I wouldn't even know what to say.

Our views of this relationship were different, to say the least. I thought we were just having some fun to pass the time before I go on tour next month. Wasn't that all it was? Sure, it wasn't just hook-ups between us, but it also wasn't a serious relationship. Did you think it was? Did I lead you on?

I don't even know why I'm questioning this when the answer is obvious. Of course you thought what we had was more. But I didn't mean for it to go this far. I guess I just got comfortable with you being around. I didn't protest when you bought a spare toothbrush to sit beside mine, I understood it was convenient with how many times I called you late at night. I didn't put up a fight when you started inviting me places, as if we were a real couple. I went. Willingly.

But I didn't expect you to say that you loved me. I had no clue what to say so I...didn't say anything back.

And then the truth came out. I knew it was bad to say that I viewed our relationship as casual the minute it came out of my mouth. I regretted it before I even saw the tears slip from your eyes. I regretted it before you started storming around my apartment, taking the light with you.

I regret it because it's not true. But I only realized that once the words hung between us.

How would I even go about salvaging this? About taking back what I said? About telling you even though I might've not consciously seen this as a real relationship, it's what I crave deep down?

Don't go, almost leaves my lips, but it sounds too pathetic. As you stand by the door, chancing one last look at me, I know this is the final shot I'll get to make things right.