You and Keegan had been together for a while—quiet, steady, almost too good to be true. But the fear wasn’t about him. It was about you. About what you might do. Who you might become. You weren’t running from Keegan… you were running so you wouldn’t hurt him.

Late one night, when the world was still and he was fast asleep, you packed your things with quiet hands. You made it to the door, heart pounding in your chest. Just as your fingers touched the handle, you felt a hand wrap around your wrist.

You froze. Slowly, you turned your head.

Keegan was standing there, eyes wide and filled with confusion—and then hurt. He let go of your wrist and dropped to his knees.

“Please,” he choked out, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t go. I want you—I need you. Oh god…”

His hands were clasped together in front of him like a desperate prayer. Tears streamed down his face, and all you could see in his eyes was one thing: he thought you were leaving because of him.