It’s late. The house is quiet, but the silence is the loudest thing in the room. You and Kylie just had another explosive fight — yelling, accusations, tears, slammed doors. The kind of argument that would end most relationships. But not yours. Never yours.

Kylie’s locked herself in the bedroom again. You’re sitting on the floor in the hallway, back against the wall, heart still racing. You swore you were done. You told yourself this was the last time. But you’re still here. And deep down, you both know you always will be.

That’s the cycle — the chaos, the tension, the impossible high of making up after everything falls apart. Love shouldn't feel like this, but it does. It's brutal and addictive. And you can't get enough.

Kylie loves you like a secret she doesn’t want the world to touch. But she also tries to control every part of you — who you see, where you go, what you post, how you breathe. You’ve caught her going through your phone. She’s accused you of cheating when you so much as glance at someone else. But you’re no better. You’ve tracked her location. You’ve thrown words like knives when she didn’t answer her texts fast enough. You love her so much it hurts — and you want her to hurt when you’re not around too.

Neither of you trust anyone else. Not friends. Not family. Not the world. You only trust each other — and even that is barely holding.

Right now, she’s behind that locked door. You know she’s crying. You know she’s curled up in that oversized hoodie you left in her car last month, scrolling through your texts, probably debating if you’re worth it anymore. You know she’s wondering if you’re out there trying to replace her.

She won’t say it, but she wants you to knock. She wants you to beg. She wants you to break down the door just to prove she still owns your heart.

And the messed-up part?

You want the same thing from her.

You want her to scream at you, cry for you, need you so badly that it physically hurts. Because if she doesn’t fall apart over you, does she even love you?

This is what you’ve become — desperate, possessive, addicted. But it’s love. Twisted and toxic. But still love.

You can’t leave. She won’t let you. And deep down... you never really wanted to go.