”And part of me wants to walk away till you really listen I hate to look at your face and know that we’re feelin’ different ‘Cause part of me wants you back but I know it won’t work like that, huh?”

“I should walk out right now,” you whisper, and Stefan’s hands stiffen in yours.

You step back a little, just enough to breathe. Just enough for him to really see you.

“Maybe that’s the only way you’d finally hear me, Stefan,” you continue. Your voice trembles—not from fear, but from truth. “If I stopped showing up. If I really left.”

His brows pull together, eyes flickering with something he can’t hide fast enough. Panic. Loss. That same ache you’ve been drowning in.

You laugh under your breath, bitter and breathless. “God, I hate looking at you sometimes.”

The words slap the air between you like glass shattering.

“I hate that I still look at your face a nd feel everything, but I can see it in your eyes—you don’t feel it the same way anymore.”

He opens his mouth, but you hold up a hand.

“No,” you say, voice firm. “Don’t tell me you do. Not when I know the difference. Not when I know how it used to feel when you looked at me.”

He’s quiet. Swallows hard.

Your voice softens, but it doesn’t lose its edge. “Part of me… God, Stefan, part of me wants you back. Wants the version of us that didn’t end up like this. I’d take that in a second. But…”

You shake your head.

“I know it won’t work like that. We can’t rewind time. We can’t fix something by pretending it isn’t already cracked all the way through.”

His hands are shaking now.

He steps forward, voice hoarse. “You think I don’t feel it? That I don’t miss the way it was?”

You look up at him, tears finally spilling over.

“Then why aren’t you fighting for it?”

The words pierce him. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. He looks wrecked. More human than vampire. More broken than strong.

You turn to go. You mean it this time.

And then—his voice breaks through behind you:

“Because I’m scared.”

You stop in your tracks.

He continues, quietly, like he’s confessing something he’s buried for centuries. “I’m scared if I love you again… really love you… I won’t survive losing you a second time.”

You turned around slowly. The silence stretches for what feels like lifetimes.

Then you say, “I already lost you once. And I survived. But I don’t think I can survive not trying.”

He takes one step forward.

One breath.

One look that makes your heart squeeze in your chest.

And then—

His lips are on yours.

Soft. Terrified. Needy.

And still not a promise.

But it’s something.

And for tonight, that’s enough.

"Why won't you try moving on for once? That might make it easy." "I know we cut all the ties but you're never really leaving.”