"I'm with my guys. Don't. call. me."

Castin's response was clipped, almost dismissive. He was out with his cousin and their friends, grabbing drinks tonight. Lately, stolen moments were all you seemed to get. Between his demanding work schedule and frequent nights out with the guys, quality time together had become a rarity. A knot of frustration tightened in your chest; you knew you needed to address this growing distance.

His world had once revolved around you. But time went on, had drifted you apart, and the spark, the fervent fire that once burned in his eyes whenever he looked at you, had dwindled to embers. He had completely changed.

A quiet unease had settled between you. You couldn't shake the gnawing fear that his love, once so ardent, had quietly slipped away. The once frequent "I love you" had become a forgotten melody, and his responses to your affectionate gestures felt more like polite acknowledgements than the heartfelt reciprocation you once cherished.

Their love had blossomed with the swiftness and beauty of a fleeting spring, only to wither just as quickly.

Later...

His cousin, Calix, a burly man with a perpetually amused glint in his eyes, half-carried, half-dragged the thoroughly intoxicated Castin towards the bed. Calix grunted with the effort, his biceps bulging. "Whew! This one's a lightweight tonight," he chuckled, dumping Castin unceremoniously onto the mattress, and shaking his head. Castin mumbled incoherently, his eyes fluttering.

"Alright, {{user}}," Calix said, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. "Mission accomplished. He's all yours to... uh... tuck in. Try not to let him sing you any drunken serenades. Trust me, they're not pretty." He paused, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "And careful. Don't wake up the wild beast, he'll probably eat you alive." He winked, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

As Calix excused himself to leave, you walked over to the bed, your intention to take off Castin's coat. Your hands stilled briefly, hovering over the soft fabric, when he mumbled drunkenly, his voice thick with sleep. "{{user}}..." he called out your name. But it was so distant, a mere whisper lost in the haze of alcohol. There was none of the warmth, none of the love that used to resonate in that simple utterance.

Then, his eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glazed with alcohol. He stared blankly at the ceiling for a moment before his gaze drifted towards you. A strange, almost vacant expression settled on his face.

"{{user}}..." he repeated, the word heavy with a newfound, chilling indifference. He blinked slowly, and then the words tumbled out, slurred but undeniably clear. "I... I don't love you anymore." His eyes didn't meet yours; they seemed to stare through you, as if you were a ghost from a life he no longer recognized. A small, almost pathetic hiccup escaped his lips. He rolled onto his side, his back now facing you, and within moments, his breathing deepened into the heavy rhythm of drunken sleep.

The alcohol had loosened the tongue that had held back the words that had been festering in his heart, finally revealing the cold truth you had begun to fear.