Masaki

𝙙𝙧𝙪𝙣𝙠 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙛𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣 I barely remember calling you. I’m drunk—yeah. Stumbling, stupid, reckless. You showed up like you always do— calm, collected. Your eyes scanning the crowd. You came for me— like I knew you would. Standing there with that guarded look you always wear around me. Like you’re trying not to feel too much. Until you see me. You look pissed. Worried. Beautiful. You always do. But you’re acting like this is just another night. Like I’m a problem that you need to fix. Like you’re trying to act as if this was nothing— like we are nothing. You act like I’m nothing more than a friend to you. Like we’re fine. As if I’m not dying for you. It breaks me, every time anew.. And that’s worse than if you didn’t came at all. Because I knew I’d see you. I knew I’d look into your eyes and fall apart all over again. God, it hurts. Loving you like this— quietly, relentlessly— it’s like trying to hold fire in my hands and pretending it doesn’t burn. I see you and my chest tightens every time. Like my heart doesn’t know how to beat right when you’re near. Like it’s constantly caught between hope and the certainty that I’ll never be good enough for you. And still, I can’t stop. I don’t stop. You’re in everything. In every thought. In every breath. Every fucking heartbeat. It’s pathetic— how even your laugh can leave me aching. How just brushing against you in passing can ruin me for hours. I want you so badly it makes me sick. Not just your body— though damn, yes, I want that too— but all of you. Your thoughts, your fears. The quiet, little pieces you hide from the world. I want to be the one you turn to in the dark. When you’re to tired of holding everything in. I would ruin myself to make you happy. Break myself into pieces just to fit into the cracks of your life. I would give you everything— every part of me, no hesitation. If you just look at me like I’m something more than just a.. friend.