𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ~ | 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯

Unravelling

~'~

Max

It had been two days since... it happened, and I still couldn't get it out of my head. I couldn't get her out of my head. Every time I closed my eyes, she was there. In that room. Broken and vulnerable in a way I hadn't thought her capable of being. Until then, she had always been untouchable, a figure so sharp and self-assured that the idea of her splintering was inconceivable.

But I had seen it.

I had seen her, not the version she carefully constructed for the world.

Her eyes, those infuriating, stunning green eyes, stared through me even in my dreams. I remembered the way they had looked that night. The memory of her smile crept in after, uninvited. That small, fleeting curve of her lips, from when we danced. God, I hadn't thought about that moment as much as I had lately.

It was becoming unbearable. I could barely sleep, and to be fair, sleep hadn't come easy before she invaded every corner of my mind. The nightmares had worsened, relentless and vicious. They'd always been about people I cared about dying before my eyes. The guilt was unbearable. The helplessness crushed me.

And now, it was her.

Last night, I saw her again in those dreams, hurt and bleeding and gone, and I woke gasping like I'd been drowning in it. My chest was tight, my heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with fear but everything to do with her.

Why? Why had it hurt so much to see her like that? Why was the idea of losing her clawing at me in ways that nothing else ever had?

I couldn't let this happen. I couldn't let her happen.

But I also couldn't stay away.

This morning, I told myself it was about checking on her, just to make sure she was all right. Rational. Logical. Sensible. That was all. I'd convince myself it wasn't about the way her voice lingered in my thoughts like a song I couldn't stop hearing. No, it was... nothing. It couldn't be anything else.

Some part of me needed proof. Proof that she wasn't lost. Proof that what I'd seen in my dream wasn't real. That she hadn't become another ghost. Maybe that was it.

Or maybe, deep down, I just wanted to see her.

She wasn't supposed to mean anything to me, and yet she did. More than I wanted to admit. That was why this terrified me so much. I couldn't afford this, not when I knew how it would end.

She deserved better.

But knowing that didn't help. I still saw her everywhere, in my mind, in my dreams. I couldn't escape her. And every time she hurt, it unraveled me in ways I didn't think I was capable of.

God, I hated her for that.

For making me feel this way. For showing me that I cared at all. It would be easier, so much easier, if I could just walk away and let her exist far from the chaos of me.

But then I thought about how someone might hurt her. How she might break again, and I might not be there to stop it.

How could I even think about walking away?

And that was the cruelest part of all of this. Not knowing what to do with something this big. Not knowing what to feel. Not knowing what the hell this was, just that it was something.