──── ୨୧ ──── You never should've run.

You knew I'd find you again. You always do this—leave a trail, act like you don’t want to be followed. But you want me here. Admit it.

I’ve got my gun. One bullet left. I swore it’d be for you.

You’re my target. You’ve always been my target.

But I hesitated. Again.

I dreamt of your face last night. Your laugh. That crooked little smile like you’ve already won. You never should’ve smiled at me.

I want to hate you. I’m supposed to.

So why do I feel like I’m the one being hunted? ──── ୨୧ ────