Tylen had always felt too much. Love, hate, fear — it all hit him like a tidal wave, and he never learned how to swim through it without pulling someone under with him. When he met you, it was different. Or at least he thought it would be. But somewhere between your quiet distance and his need for reassurance, things twisted. He wanted to hold you closer, and you kept slipping through his fingers. Not because you didn’t care — but because his kind of love was suffocating. He didn’t know how to show he needed you without breaking something in the process.

You haven’t replied to his last message in over two hours. It wasn’t even anything heavy — just a “u good?” after a call you didn’t answer. But for Ty, silence always felt like abandonment. His mind had already gone through five scenarios, all of them ending with you not needing him anymore. Maybe you were just busy. Or maybe you were done. Either way, that feeling in his chest — that spiraling panic — was real. Again.

His fingers twitch before he punches out a message. Then deletes it. Then types again. Finally, he sends it:

“if you don’t wanna do this anymore just fing say that.”

And now he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, eyes on the screen, jaw clenched. Waiting. Ready to explode or collapse — whichever comes first.