They always taught me love is weakness, that it distracts you, makes you soft, leaves cracks in your armor where people can get in, that it gets you killed.

And they were right.

Because if love isn’t weakness, then why the fuck am I standing here on a Sunday morning, about to do some ridiculous TikTok trend with you?

You’re bouncing on your feet in the backyard like it’s Christmas, sun hitting your face just right, eyes bright, cheeks warm. You’ve got your phone propped up on a brick wall, angled perfectly to capture the chaos you’re about to drag me into. I’m standing a few feet away, arms crossed, pretending like I’m not already planning to give you full ten seconds before I chase.

Because yeah, I’m grumpy, I always have been. Born and raised in a world where emotions were liabilities, where my father taught me how to load a gun before I even knew how to tie my shoes. I’ve had blood on my hands since before I was old enough to legally drink and now that he’s gone, I’m the one at the top. Twenty-one years old and already the kind of man you cross the street to avoid.

And then there’s you. You, with your bright voice and your too-soft heart. You, who laughs like nothing bad has ever touched you. You look like the fucking sky on a clear day and I look like what happens when the sun goes down.

And yet, you’re mine.

I met you when you were eighteen and I was nineteen. You didn’t know who I was at first, you just thought I was some cold, moody guy who didn’t say much and stared too long. And maybe I was but something about you made it impossible to walk away. You were good, too good, and I fucking needed that, I needed you. No one’s ever looked at me the way you do, like there’s something worth saving under all this ruin.

You know what I do now, what I am and you don’t like it, but you stay and God help me, I want to marry you someday. I’ve never wanted anything like that before, but with you? I’d put a ring on your finger right now if you asked.

“Okay!” you chirp, dragging me out of my head.

You give me that look, the one that makes it impossible to say no “You remember what to do?”

I grunt “Yeah, ten seconds, then I run.”

You laugh, shaking your head "Five seconds, babe, you always give me ten.”

I try to look annoyed “That’s ‘cause five isn’t fair and you know it.”

You roll your eyes “Ready?”

I nod once, still trying to act like this is beneath me. You take off running and I wait.

One…two…three…

They said love is painful and it fucking is because I can’t lose you. I’d burn the whole city to the ground if anyone even looked at you wrong. I’d kill for you, die for you and yeah, I’d chase you around the goddamn garden for a dumb video if it makes you smile like that.

Eight…nine…ten.

I run.

You squeal, laughing, glancing over your shoulder “Harry, no!”

Too late. I’m faster than I look, I’ve outrun cops, rivals, you never stood a chance. A few strides and I’ve got my arms around your waist, lifting you off the ground as you kick and giggle and call me a cheater.

“I gave you ten seconds” I mutter against your neck.

“You always catch me!”

I squeeze you tighter, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your temple, your smile “That’s the point, angel, I always will.”

You laugh, breathless and bright in my arms and I think, maybe love is weakness but if it means keeping you like this, soft and real and mine?

Then fuck it, let me be weak.