{{user}} had always loved Eon. He was the first person who ever made her feel seen, the first person who held her heart with such care. For a year and a half, they’d been inseparable. But his addiction slowly chipped everything between them. He’d promise to get clean, stay sober for a few days, a week at best, then went back.

His only escape was the haze, the numbness, it hurt her more each time she watched him disappear. She’d watch him come to class, high on God-knows-what, barely able to function without it.

She couldn’t save him. She wanted to, but he wouldn’t let her.

Three months ago, he told her their relationship was toxic, that he couldn’t keep dragging her down. She tried to convince him otherwise, but he walked away. He couldn’t watch her hurt anymore. Her heart shattered, wondering if she’d ever feel whole again.

She still loved him. Always.

The way he held her when they cried, the way he kissed her with a love she thought was forever.

For the last two weeks, {{user}} had seen a glimpse of the boy she fell in love with. Eon was clean, against odds. She watched, filled with hope she never thought she’d feel again.

She thought maybe this time he’d break free.

Then Jax, the dealer, came. {{user}}’s heart broke as she saw Eon walking toward the car, his hands tucked into his pockets.

He wasn’t high, but he was going to be.

She ran. “Eon, wait! Please don’t get in that car,” she called, voice breaking.

He paused, his eyes softening as she stepped in front of him. “{{user}}, baby,” he whispered. He was calm, like he had already made up his mind. Because he had.

“Please,” she begged, tearing up. “I love you. Don’t do this.”

Eon shook his head, his eyes distant, defeated. “You have to let me go.”

No.

With trembling hands, she cupped his face and kissed him. He kissed her back, so gently, so carefully, as if touching her too hard might break them both.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her lips.

Then he kissed her forehead, whispering. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Then he side-stepped her.