GUILTY (Mxm)

6

Jerome's wails echoed through the room, his pleas reverberating off the walls. "Declan, I'm sorry! Please forgive me!" He crawled towards Declan, his eyes pleading, his body shaking.

Declan stood in the doorway, his expression a mask of stone. No hint of emotion flickered in his eyes as he gazed at Jerome.

"Why should I forgive you?" Declan asked, his voice laced with mockery. "You've shattered my trust, destroyed our love. What could you possibly offer to make up for that?"

Jerome's cries intensified, his body convulsing with sobs. "I've been punished enough...please, I'm sorry. I don't deserve your love, but I can't live without it. Forgive me."

Declan's expression remained unyielding, his silence piercing Jerome's soul. After an eternity, he turned and left the room.

Jerome's world crumbled. He felt the weight of Declan's rejection crushing him, suffocating him. His vision blurred, and his body went limp. He fainted, his heart shattered into a million pieces.

As Jerome lay unconscious, his mind replayed Declan's words, his silence, and his departure. The pain seared his soul, igniting a fire of despair.

Days passed, and Jerome's anguish only deepened. He struggled to eat, sleep, or find solace. His thoughts swirled with self-loathing, anxiety, and desperation.

"Forgive me, Declan," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Please, give me another chance."

But Declan's silence was deafening.

Lala and Michael watched Jerome's downward spiral, their concern growing. "He's lost without Declan," Lala whispered. .

Michael nodded. "He deserves it. Declan's heart is locked away. I'm not sure even Jerome can reach it."

As Jerome's mental state deteriorated, his  fears the worsened. He would succumb to depression, anxiety, or worst

Jerome's world had shrunk to a single phrase: "Declan, I'm sorry. Give me another chance." His mind replayed the moment Declan walked away, leaving him shattered.

Days blurred together as Jerome's physical and mental health deteriorated. He stopped eating, sleeping, or engaging in any activity. His only focus was Declan.

The name echoed in his mind like a haunting mantra. Jerome's eyes sunken, his skin pale, and his once-lustrous hair now dull and lifeless.

He paced his room, his eyes fixed on the floor, repeating his plea. "Declan, I'm sorry...Give me another chance."

Desperation clawed at his soul. Jerome felt the weight of Declan's silence crushing him.

In a fit of anguish, Jerome stumbled to the wall and started hitting his head against it. The sound of his skull meeting the concrete echoed through the room.

"If Declan doesn't think he's punished me enough, then I'll punish myself," Jerome thought, his mind consumed by self-loathing.

Each blow reverberated through his body, a physical manifestation of his emotional pain. Tears streamed down his face as he screamed silently.

"Declan, forgive me!"

Jerome's body slumped to the floor, his head throbbing. He curled into a fetal position, his eyes fixed on the illusion of Declan's photo.

The image blurred as tears flooded his eyes. Jerome's heart felt like it was disintegrating, leaving only dust and despair.

Time lost all meaning. Minutes, hours, days – everything blended together in a never-ending cycle of sorrow.

Jerome's cell became suffocating, confining him to his own private hell.

In the darkness, Jerome's thoughts spiraled:

"Is this what love feels like when it's lost?"

"Can I ever redeem myself?"

"Will Declan ever forgive me?"

The silence was deafening.

Declan entered Jerome's cell, his heart heavy with concern. He found Jerome's limp body on the floor, his face pale, and his eyes sunken.

Without hesitation, Declan scooped up Jerome's unconscious form, cradling him in his arms. He carried him to his own room, his movements gentle.

As he laid Jerome in the warm bathwater, Declan's anger began to dissipate, replaced by a deep-seated need to nurture and protect. He washed Jerome's body, his touch tender.

Declan's eyes lingered on Jerome's wounds, his heart aching. He applied a soothing ointment to each bruise, each cut, his fingers tracing the contours of Jerome's battered body.

After drying Jerome, Declan tucked him into bed, pulling the blankets up to his chin. As he gazed at Jerome's peaceful face, something shifted within him.

Declan's lips brushed against Jerome's forehead, a soft, gentle kiss. It was a gesture of compassion, of forgiveness, of love.

Declan's eyes closed, and he breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of Jerome's skin. Memories flooded his mind – laughter, whispers, and promises.

For a moment, Declan forgot the pain, the betrayal. All that remained was the love he still held for Jerome.

As he stood there, bathed in the soft light of the room, Declan's expression softened. His eyes, once cold and distant, now shone with warmth.