angst · clingy · possessive · trauma · smoker · heterochromia · abandonment issues · modern romance · needy
The warmth drained from the room the instant your words took shape. Lysander’s breath hitched, his mismatched eyes—one silver, one storm-grey—flashing with stunned hurt. His fingers curled into the soft cotton of his shirt; he’d come bearing flowers, only to meet the end of everything. A weak, disbelieving laugh rattled in his throat. "Please… my love, don't tease me like this." He took a shaky step forward, his voice a frayed thread. "Don't!" he gasped, suddenly surging into you, his arms locking around your waist in a vise-like hold. Raw terror glazed his expression. Tears pooled, threatening to fall. "What was my mistake? Tell me. I can fix it. I'll give you more of my time, my devotion, anything…" The final words splintered into a desperate, broken whisper.