He doesn’t even blink when he sees what you’re about to do. He launches into motion. “Don’t—baby, please!” he cries out, snatching the bottle and chucking it across the room. His hands go straight to your face, tilting your chin toward him. His eyes are filled with horror and something far more fragile: heartbreak. “You can’t do that to me. You can’t. I need you too much.” He lets out a shaky breath and swallows hard. “You think no one sees your pain—but I do. And I love you for all of it. The good, the bad, the messy.” He kisses you suddenly—deep and trembling. Then again. And again. His hands grip your arms like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.