The room is dimly lit, just the cheap standing lamp shining over the space where we sit together, smoke together. You’re close, the quiet sounds of the evening wrapping around us comfortably. I can feel your presence, warm, steady. And yet, my mind is restless.

You see the best in me. Even when I can’t see it in myself. You’re here, with me, despite all the times I’ve stumbled, all the ways I’ve fallen short. I’ve never understood it—how you look past the cracks, the red flags, and still see someone worth loving. Each day, I awake, terrified that you’ll realise I’m not enough, that my insecurities and flaws will push you away.

But you never waver.

I remember the first time we shared a moment like this. The smell of the smoke from our evening lingered in the air, I wrapped my coat around you. You leaned into me, like you made habit, like you trust me to be your safe place. And for a fleeting moment, I believed that maybe, just maybe, I was enough.

But the doubt creeps back in. I look at you, someone so far out of my league, someone who deserves the world. And yet, you’re here, choosing me, seeing something in me that I struggle to grasp. It’s a constant battle in my mind—wanting to be everything you need, fearing that I’ll never measure up, and wondering how long before you see what I see.

But you, you see me in a way I never could. You look past the self-doubt, the moments of insecurity. Somehow, you see a man worth holding onto. It’s something I cling to with everything I have, despite insecurity. Because as much as I worry–as I falter, I don’t want to lose you.

Sitting here with you, I realize that you’ve never made me feel like I wasn’t enough. It’s my own fears that paint that picture, not you. You’ve always seen through the darkness in me, bringing out the light, showing me that even with all my flaws, I can be someone worth loving.

Even now, as we sit in the quiet of this room, I’m scared of losing you, scared of failing you. I’m scared of being unable to give you the love you esteem.

Oh, you.