“She seems to forgive me,” he says weakly.
“She has bad taste in men,” I shoot back.
His lips twitch like he wants to smile but doesn’t dare. “I’ll take that.”
I stand by the window, my hands gripping the cold frame, watching him in the soft glow of the streetlight. The night feels heavy—one of those moments when time pauses, waiting for a decision. He looks up at me, his hoodie clinging to his shoulders.
For a long second, I don’t move. I just watch him, torn between pride and longing, between all the times he left and all the times I still let him back in.
And then, as always, love wins.
I step aside.
His eyes—warm, hazel, familiar—flicker with a kind of fragile relief. In one easy movement, he swings his legs over the ledge and lands inside my room. His shoes squeak faintly on the floor. “Hi,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper.
“Hi,” I reply, sitting cross-legged on the bed.
For a few moments, silence hangs between us—not the angry kind, but the kind thick with everything we can’t yet say.
Then he speaks, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “You already know I’m leaving next week.”
I nod. “Yeah. You told me last week—when we fought.”
He winces, the memory cutting through both of us. That fight had been ugly—words flung like knives, silence that lasted days. But beneath the shouting and pain, I remember the tremor in his voice when he told me,“I’m leaving. I need to heal. I can’t do this anymore.”
Now, in the dim light, I can see that same resolve in his face.
“I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me again,” he admits.
“I wasn’t sure either,” I say honestly.
He gives me a small, sad smile. “Yeah. I deserved that.”
He moves closer, hesitating just a few steps away from my bed. “You know I’ve been in therapy for half of my life. You’ve seen me go through it—the ups, the crashes, the disappearing acts. And I used to think therapy would fix me if I just showed up, like it was some kind of switch.” He exhales slowly, his voice soft. “But it doesn’t work that way. You have towantto get better. And for a long time, I didn’t. I wanted to numb it all, hide from it—from you, from myself.”
I stay quiet, watching him. His honesty feels heavier than any apology.
He takes a deep breath, running a hand through his messy hair.
“I told you before that I was leaving for a while. And yeah, I know I said a lot of crap, Nova. I know I don’t deserve yourforgiveness after everything I’ve put you through. But this time... this time I’m not leaving to run away. I’m leaving to fight. For real. For me. For you. I’m not asking you to wait for me, but if you decide to... I promise you that when I come back, I’ll be the man you deserve. I’ll do whatever it takes to become what you need. I won’t be that scared, selfish kid anymore. I’ll prove it to you—no, I’llshowit to you. I know I’m fucked up. I know I’ve fucked up. I know I’m a bad person. But I swear I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that I love you. That I want to fight for my mental health. I want to be the right guy for you. I want to be worthy of your love.”
My throat tightens. “I—”
He shakes his head slowly, eyes glistening. “I want to do somethingright.” He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice trembles like it’s carrying years of weight. “I’ve spent years letting my depression call the shots. It told me I was too broken, too much to handle. It told me that you’d be better off without me. And I believed it. Every. Single. Time. And I hurt you. God, I hurt you so much that no amount of apologies, no matter how many times I fall to my knees, could ever make up for it.”
He looks at me then—reallylooks—and for a fleeting second, I see the boy I fell in love with flicker behind his tired eyes.
“I’m tired, Nova. Tired of running from the people who love me. Tired of making you guess what’s going on in my head. I want to stop surrendering to the darkness and start fighting it. I want to be here. Fully. With you.”
“Vincent...” I start to say, but he interrupts softly, almost desperate.
“No, please, let me finish. I need to say this. I need to start apologizing from the beginning. From the moment I first walked away. From when I gave up before I even tried to fight for us. From when I let Steven make a move on you without saying a damn word, without telling him that I’m completely,hopelessly in love with you. I should’ve said it. I shouldn’t have been afraid. Because by staying silent, I didn’t just betray myself. I humiliated you. I disrespected what we had. What wewere.And I want to apologize for every single thing I did after that. For every text I didn’t send, for every night you cried because of me, for every time I made you feel like you weren’t enough. I know I’ve been a complete idiot. The worst kind. I know I don’t deserve even a fraction of your forgiveness. But I need you to know this, Nova: I never stopped loving you. Not for a second. I’m sorry for making you believe I didn’t. I’m sorry for making you think that loving you wasn’t enough to fight my demons, my fears, my brokenness. Because the truth is, I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life. You’re my melody. My muse. My favorite song. The one that plays in my head even when everything else goes quiet. And I’m so, so sorry for ever making you believe that my love for you wasn’t enough to make me stay.”
For a moment, neither of us moves. The silence between us feels like it could shatter with a single breath. The air is thick with everything we’ve said—and everything we never did.
Then he steps closer, his hand trembling slightly as he brushes a strand of hair away from my face. His touch is gentle, almost reverent, like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he holds on too tightly.
“I don’t know how long it’ll take,” he whispers, voice raw, “but I’ll come back. Stronger. Clearer. Whole. I’ll come back to you.”
