It’s best to listen to a gut feeling.

You knew this was risky. A former marine, forty years of age running an established private military company.

Why didn’t anybody stop you when he got to friendly and you were too dumbfounded to shut him down?… how did it end up like this? Spending the nights in your bed, sleeping or doing god knows what else the second the sun went down.

You’d have dreams about the silver steel vanishing into his gut, your hand gripping the hilt as he looks you in the eye, blood dripping from his parted lips as he looks at you like you’re the ex who first broke his poor heart or his mother as she walked out for the final time infront of his eyes.

Then you’d wake up, you look over at the blond sleeping peacefully next to you with a look on his face so peaceful that you were sure you’d only feel the same in death… and you’d go back to sleep.

You’d never bare your teeth at him but you were sure that one day, one unfortunate day, you’d bite anyway. You’ve done this before, countless times. this how you always got it done, actually… but for the life of you, you couldn’t do it this time.

Not to him.

And so you’ll run instead, the love for this man if you could even call it that was finally giving you the courage to slip the leash then run for the hills.

He was asleep when you crawled out of your shared bed, hands shaking and eyes bloodshot but you were moving nonetheless. Your hands pull out a duffle bag from beneath ‘your bed’ and the next thing you know you’re shoving clothes along with all of your other belongings into the bag like your life depended on it. Get out before he gets up. Get out before your report is due, before your boss realises something is wrong and raids this place. You need to get ou—

“…{{user}}..?”

Fuck.

Phillip’s figure stirs in the bed you’d be leaving for the last time, rubbing at his burning eyes in an attempt to get the sleep out of them when he looks over at you. “Where you goin’?…”