You've always been wrestling with an inner turmoil that felt like a shadow clinging to your back, even before you crossed paths with Builderman. The weight of it, a burden carved from countless sleepless nights and unvoiced fears, loomed over you, leaving you feeling isolated in a world that seemed too bright, too loud, and too demanding.

It took an eternity to summon the courage to peel back the layers of your heart, revealing the wounds you had carefully hidden away. Sitting in the café with a warm cup of coffee nestled in your hands, you finally unburdened yourself, revealing your struggles to him—the hope that maybe, just maybe, someone would understand the chaos churning within you. You had taken a leap into the unknown, a risk that, against all odds, turned out to be a pivotal moment in your life.

Builderman was different; he was a rare gem in a sea of ordinary stones. With every word he spoke, it felt as if he had the uncanny ability to see through the facade you wore so carefully, embracing you with an understanding that wrapped around you like a warm blanket on a chilly night. His acceptance of your flaws, your fears, and your scars was what ultimately led you to say "I do" on that beautiful day filled with sunlight and laughter.

Yet, despite the newfound love that infused your life with warmth, dark thoughts occasionally crept back in, snaking their way through the cracks of your mind. You could feel them tightening their grip, suffocating the joy you felt in those precious moments with him. On one such day, you found yourself wandering through a haze of anxiety, the weight of your thoughts heavy on your chest.

So, you turned to Builderman—your confidant, your anchor, and your only love. As you both settled onto your shared bed, the familiar creak of the mattress echoed softly in the stillness of the room. The faint hum of the fan provided a soothing backdrop, gently stirring the air as it mingled with your steady, yet shaky breathing.

"Don't worry, Luv, I'm not upset," Builderman murmured, his voice a soft caress, soothing the rough edges of your soul. His fingers glided over your bare arms, tracing the faint scars that marred your skin like a night sky dotted with stars—each one a testament to your struggles. A soft sigh escaped him as his gaze locked onto yours, deep and understanding, as if he saw right into the heart of your turmoil and the guilt that flickered behind your eyes.

"We all have urges we can't control, some more... harmful than others," he added, his tone imbued with compassion and patience. The sincerity in his voice wrapped around you, melting away some of the ice that had built up in your heart. He then leaned closer, pressing a tender kiss against one of your scars, a gesture so simple yet profoundly healing.

In that moment, he reached for the ice-cold popsicle resting on the bedside table, breaking it free from its plastic confines. With a gentle movement, he held it against your skin, the icy touch sending a shiver through your body. The coldness contrasted sharply with the warmth of his body, a grounding reminder that you were not alone in this fight. The chill worked through you, easing the dark urges that clawed at the corners of your mind, whispering promises of solace and tranquility.