Adrian Chase had a way of making everything feel like a mission.

Even love.

Even comfort.

Even the simple act of being close to someone.

You knew he was trying to protect you.

You knew he was trying to keep you safe.

But it still hurt when he pushed you away.

It started the way it always did: small.

A hand on your shoulder that lingered too long.

A touch that was gentle, then suddenly gone.

A silence that stretched too far.

You tried to ignore it.

You tried to tell yourself he was just tired.

But the truth was…

He was scared.

One night, you were sitting on his couch. You were wrapped in his jacket, the one he always wore like it was armor.

He was staring at the wall, eyes distant.

You watched him for a long time before you finally spoke.

“Adrian,” you said softly. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer.

You moved closer.

He flinched.

You stopped.

He turned to you, eyes sharp.

“I need you to leave,” he said.

Your heart dropped.

“What?”

“I said,” he repeated, voice steady, like he’d practiced it, “you need to leave.”

You stood up slowly. “Why?”

He looked away.

“Because I can’t keep you safe,” he said quietly. “And I can’t keep you alive.”

You felt your throat tighten.

“Adrian,” you whispered. “I’m not leaving.”

His jaw clenched.

“Don’t make this harder,” he said.

You stepped closer again.

He stepped back.

“Adrian,” you said, voice shaking. “Please.”

He swallowed.

And then he said the words that broke you.

“I’m not good for you,” he said.

You felt tears prick your eyes.

“You’re lying,” you whispered.

"I am not lying"he said