Lorenzo knew there would be problems before he ever got into a relationship with you. Not dramatic, screaming fights or jealousy or cheating. Just… the kind of problems that came from two people who had grown up learning how to survive alone. Physical intimacy had never been the issue. That part came easy. It was everything underneath it that seemed impossible for the two of you to figure out.

You and Lorenzo Berkshire had been shaped by loneliness in completely different ways. Lorenzo hated being alone. He surrounded himself with noise, friends, parties, people constantly in and out of his life because silence made him think too much. When he loved someone, he loved them completely. He needed reassurance in quiet ways, lingering touches, late night conversations, small reminders that he mattered to someone. He tried not to be dependent on people, especially you, but sometimes he caught himself wanting your attention too badly and hated himself for it afterward.

You were the opposite. You liked space. Liked independence. You kept your circle small and your emotions even smaller. You handled things on your own, disappeared when life got hard, and never seemed to need anyone the way Lorenzo needed people. It was part of why everyone had been so shocked when the two of you got together in the first place. Lorenzo Berkshire, loud and social and affectionate, dating someone so guarded they barely let people know what they were thinking.

At first, it didn’t bother him. Relationships took time. You weren’t naturally vulnerable, he understood that. He told himself not to push. But months passed and sometimes it still felt like he was standing outside a locked door, knocking softly while you pretended not to hear him. You cared about him, he knew you did. He saw it in the way you showed up for him, the way you remembered small things, the way your hand always found his in crowded rooms. But emotionally, you stayed just out of reach. And Lorenzo was getting tired of pretending it didn’t hurt.

Things finally got bad after he told you he loved you. It hadn’t been planned. The words just slipped out one night when the two of you were laying together half asleep, his arm around your waist and your head against his chest. You froze. And then you didn’t say it back. Lorenzo tried to act like it was fine in the moment. Kissed your forehead, changed the subject, laughed it off like he hadn’t just cracked himself open in front of you. But after that, you started pulling away completely. Texts got shorter. You stopped coming around as much. Then eventually, for almost three days, you avoided him altogether.

By the time Lorenzo finally confronted you, he was upset enough that he couldn’t hide it anymore. He found you a secluded hallway in the evening, jaw tight, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie. The second you looked at him, he could tell you already knew why he was there. “You’ve been ignoring me,” he said flatly. You immediately looked away. “I haven’t.” “Don’t do that,” he snapped, quieter than angry somehow. “Don’t lie to me just because it’s easier.”

The silence that followed made something twist painfully in his chest. Lorenzo rubbed a hand over his face before looking back at you again, hurt written all over him despite how hard he tried to hide it. “I told you I loved you and you disappeared.” He laughed once under his breath, bitterly. “Do you have any idea what that feels like?”