What We Couldve Been

“What we could’ve been”

It's still not out of my system. Whenever my train of thought is off track, I find it dangerously close to the off-limits section in my mind. Why do I have to torture myself so much? It's as if I'm secretly a masochist and I start wandering through painful territory, knowing full well that what's about to come, is going to give my feelings a huge blow.

Nevertheless, I keep pushing my boundaries, stretching them to the ultimate breaking point every time I delve into the sea of faded moments.

It's a poison I willingly take a sip of and each drop never fails to impress me. I slowly die inside every time I look at you. Your love, your dimpled smile, the way you flicked your hair to the side and slyly smirked at me every time you caught me staring. And I'm undone. The wicked tears betray me and the dull pang in my chest reminds me of the mistake—of the sin I commit every time I go hunting for our repressed memories. It pushes and pulls, hums and throbs, in hypnotizing rhythms and I succumb.

I succumb to the wants of my heart. I am a fiend for this emotion you evoke in me. An addict of the pain it brings me. And I thrive off of the sadness that stabs across my chest, struggling to escape. Because it's when I feel these emotions, all the voices, moments, and memories playing like a trance in my mind, I know it was real. That I did not make it all up. That every fight, every tear, and every embrace we shared was real. And the seamless pain is a beautiful reminder of it all. Of the messy, toxic, passionate love we shared. And even if regret is the only feeling left in my heart, I would never take it back. I would never change anything between us, even if it meant, I'd be nursing and nurturing the wounds you dealt me, for the rest of my life. All because I am in love with the past—with the simple idea of what we had and what we could've been.

Your door slams open. It’s Bailey

Him after snatching money from my PC…“Alexa play Money by Lisa💅”

𝓖𝓻𝓪𝓫 𝓪 𝓬𝓸𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪 𝓫𝓸𝓸𝓴, 𝓵𝓮𝓽'𝓼 𝓬𝓾𝓻𝓵 𝓾𝓹 𝓫𝔂 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓬𝓮

(Keep scrolling for the master list) 𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒐 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒆. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒄𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒆 𝑨𝒔𝒉𝒆 ^^ 𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝑰 𝒕𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉…𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒑𝒐𝒆𝒎𝒔? 𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒔? 𝒐𝒓 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒔 𝒘𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒌 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒈

"ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ ᴘʟᴀʏ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ; ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ꜱʏʟʟᴀʙʟᴇ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅʟʏ ɴᴀʀʀᴀᴛᴇꜱ ᴏᴜʀ ᴜɴɪᴏɴ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴠᴏᴡᴇʟꜱ ʙᴏᴡ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴɴᴏᴜɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴡ ʙᴇɢɪɴɴɪɴɢꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴏɴᴀɴᴛꜱ ꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀʟʟᴀᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ"

𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒏💜 [𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒐𝒌𝒂𝒚 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒔𝒖𝒈𝒈𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒄𝒔]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓼𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓯~

(updated on 13th Sep'24)

1) 𝑫𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒆𝒔 𝑶𝒇 𝑳𝒆𝒘𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝑭𝒊𝒄𝒔

2) 𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝑫𝒊𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔

3) 14 𝑫𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖

4) 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕

5) 𝑯𝒐𝒕 𝑲𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓 𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒔

6) 𝑨𝒔𝒌𝒔/ 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔

𝑰𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒓, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒌𝒔 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒚. 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒚, 𝑼𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒏𝒆𝒙𝒕 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆~

Tag list-

#ashewrites📝 #mywords💜 #flâneur✨

#ashe’s mailbox📜 #tête à tête💜 #ashe’s journal🖌️

[ Side blog for reblogs- @flaneur002

All the follows will come from the main ]

Yandere! Business man x Fem! Reader Word count- 1409 (proofread) [CW- stalking, obsessive behaviour, mild abuse insinuated, abduction, insinuated noncon acts,Stockholm syndrome]

5 Things he HATES about you

“There you are, walking without a care in the world. Hair billowing in the gentle wind like a halo atop your head, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, bunny?

You hum to yourself, the beginning of a sweet song, and it sounds like honey to my ears. Any words that slip from those rosy lips tempt me to taste them. Sigh you have made a besotted fool out of me.

So why do you test me so bunny? When I have been nothing but oh so good to you?!”

I HATE THE WAY YOU MAKE MY HEART RACE~ He had been living a perfectly normal, uneventful life. Going about his daily routine, working, keeping to himself and his eccentric hobbies. But that morning, you had to spill piping hot coffee on him, ruining his tailored suit and mood. His jaw ticked and he looked up at the clumsy menace ready to give them an earful when he felt shaky little hands dabbing at his suit. She blubbered apologies, a flustered whimpering mess, and something in him shifted. The sight of the woman before him, reminded him of something pitiful. Like a small bunny. He dropped a few bills and instantly left the cafe, irritated at the way the coffee clung to his scalded skin. Why had he gone soft? Something definitely had shifted in him, and he soon realized what. His traitorous heart had shifted allegiances, thrumming for a woman it barely knew. This was an inconvenience, and he hated you for it.

I HATE WHEN YOU DON’T LOOK AT ME~ His hands furiously typed at the keyboard of his laptop, eyes trained on the woman fluttering about the cafe with a cheerful smile. Her hands were laden with trays of food and coffee. She made small talk with some customers, greeting the regulars so sweetly like she knew them personally. When she came up to his table, her smile tightened and her eyes dropped to her feet. A smirk sneaked its way on his face at her docile behavior, yet something irked him. ‘Why won’t you look at me the way you look at others?’ Although some petty part of him loved seeing you uncomfortable around him, he couldn’t understand why his hands itched to grab your chin and make you face him properly. ‘Screw the coffee I’d rather drink in the warm pool of those eyes’

WHEN YOU TALK TO HIM? YES, I HATE IT~ Her shift had ended hours ago. Had he got the schedule wrong? No…he had it memorized by now. Your home, every place you went to, some spots that you visited frequently? Yes, those were his favorite haunts too now. So when he hung by the dimly lit alley, and his eyes landed on you having an animated conversation with the guy that you worked with, his fists clenched at his sides. It had been pouring heavily, and here he was soaked to the bone, waiting for his bunny to leave so that he could see you walk home, but what did you do?! You were busy with another guy? See bunny, you should have known better than to talk to other men. Don’t you realize that you are naive and so innocent? They would use you. Stop hurting me and making me mad bunny.

I HATE THE WAY I CAN’T GET YOU OUT OF MY MIND~This has gone on for weeks. He has become a pilgrim visiting the cafe everyday religiously. So much so that even the regulars know better than to occupy the table at the farthest corner, with the best vantage point of the counter. Today is no different either, his eyes are preoccupied with their silent vigil, watching…appreciating, your lithe form moving between the tables delivering order after order. But he has changed. You have changed him. Gone is his need to uphold perfect appearances in crisp three piece suits. Rather these days he is like a foolish boy in love. Not mindful of what he is wearing or where he is. Nothing matters anymore. It’s only you, all you. His employees are worried about him being absent from work. But they don’t realize that if he doesn’t watch you every damn second of the day, he might lose his mind. Hell, he feels his sanity slipping slowly even when he’s near you. It’s not enough. Nothing is enough when it comes to you. Bunny, close doesn’t seem close enough, and THIS HAS GOT TO CHANGE. You’ll be mine and only mine. Soon.

I HATE WHEN YOU TRY TO LEAVE ME~ The ceiling is a little damp with a musty air lingering around the vicinity, due to the barred windows lining the basement. A plush bed sits in the centre of the bleak room, its soft rose colored sheets are a stark contrast to the abysmal grey of the room. The room is silent save for the occasional sob that escaped your mouth. Whenever a tear rolled down your face, it didn’t take a second before he was on you, gently cradling your face, as he wiped the stray tears with a tissue.

“Shhh bunny. It’s okay. Everything’s okay now. There…there” he cooed, his big hands combing through your lush hair, as he sat close to you. Your knees touched and you resisted the urge to flinch when he raised his hands to sweep your hair away from your face and gathered them into a ponytail.

He eyed you wearily as he clicked his tongue, looking at the big red handprint on your cheek. Gently he pressed an ice pack against your swollen skin and soon the ice was replaced by his warm lips. His breath fanned across your face, all mint and whiskey intoxicating you.

“It hurts doesn’t it?” He inquired in a low voice, his strong hands had easily scooped you up and placed you on his lap snaking his arms around you to pull you in an embrace.

But when you shook your head in answer, his hand grabbed your ponytail so tightly that it hurt. Yanking your head back to face him he smiled menacingly, “Did you forget already bunny? I want you to use your words to answer me, and I want you to look at me when I’m talking” he said. The dulcet tone of his warm voice was so soothing, a stark contrast to his vice like grip on your waist and hair.

If you listened closely, you could sense the worry in his voice, the slight tremor in his touches, and the way his eyes never left you. You didn’t want to, but you had started looking forward to the time he came home from work. The way he talked your ear off about the people at his company. The way he bathed and dressed you in the finest of clothes.The way he himself fed you, and asked his chef to cook the food that you especially loved. He had also changed the metal chains to softer bindings once you started to behave nicely. Once he started to trust you.

“I’m sorry bunny…” he said nuzzling your neck. Then turning your face with a slender finger he pressed feather-light kisses to your swollen cheek, muttering an apology after each kiss.

“Don’t make me do this bunny. You were doing so good. We were starting to trust each other didn’t we? What more do you want? I can lay the whole damn world at your feet darling, just say the word.” He laid you down on the bed and curled behind you, holding you close to his chest. You listened to his heartbeat, the sound eerily placating you. He was still wearing his work clothes. All pristine and proper in his three piece suit.

You giggled on the inside thinking only you got to see the madness that lingered behind those angel eyes.

He kissed the top of your head as he hummed a sweet lullaby, and you felt your eyelids droop.

“Sleep bunny. And banish every thought of leaving. You don’t want to see the monster rear its ugly head again, do you? You’ll stay right?” He asked deceivingly sweet.

“Yes”, you muttered, looking at him over your shoulder. A proud smile lit up his face, pointy canines flashing, that made him look boyish and ethereal in the dim lighting.

“Good girl. You’ll learn soon enough, that you’re mine. And there’s no place safer than my arms” he mumbled as the sleep finally overcame your senses.

Random DoL drabble because I’m bored… I just imagined what if Jordan was a LI with the same corruption stat as Sydney. So here it is lol~

CW- Religious themes, it’s sfw but mildly suggestive

Jordan The Priest x GN PC

You are in the Temple. Your hands are loaded with gardening tools as you move in and out of the garden. Your habit is covered in patches of dirt, stray leaves stick to your head and other places. You can feel sweat on your body with the amount of exercise you are getting |++strength +fatigue

As you enter the temple, your shoulder roughly collides with someone making you fall flat on your butt. You feel a sharp twinge of pain, as everything in your grasp is scattered around you |+stress +pain

You look up to see a familiar face loom over you. “I am so sorry, my child” Jordan mutters softly as he bends down and helps you up, lifting you by your arms. “I wasn’t watching where I was going” His long golden hair, slips from the sides of his cowl and tickles your nose. He frantically moves about gathering your scattered items as you dust yourself off.

Jordan smiles at you apologetically as he hands over the items to you, “I apologize again. I see you’re hard at work.” He gives you the items. Your fingers brush slightly. You smirk a little and hold his hand yanking him close to your face. His eyes widen as he stares at you, your faces inches apart, “Thank You” you mutter huskily making his breath hitch |+Arousal +Jordan’s Corruption

“Do-don’t mention it” a flush rises to his face, he stutters as he hastily picks up his book from the ground and walks quickly towards the pews without glancing back.

Its evening. You are at the orphanage at Domus street. You are wrapped in a towel as you move about your room, looking for your journal. After an hour long of futile search, your eyes land on a book with a brown leather binding.

It’s similar to yours, but when you flip it open, the name, “Jordan” rests on the page in neat and elegant cursive handwriting.

A curiosity fills you, and you sit on your bed and begin reading through the pages. Most of it is just mundane stuff, their schedule for everyday, some bookkeeping of temple allowances, and even regular musings. You mindlessly flip the pages, almost in a bored fashion when your eyes land on a very recent entry.

“I don’t understand what is happening these days. I find myself facing a deep precipice. This is wrong. So very wrong. In vain have I tried to cleanse myself of these thoughts. These vice like feelings are eating away at my mind. I can sense it. This darkness is slowly sweeping me in its corrupt hands, and I am willingly walking into its embrace.

I should’ve known you were trouble the moment I saw you drag Sydney into the depths of depravity. Yet I crave for you. I want you to look at me the way you look at them. I want to feel those emotions that feel so foreign to me. I feel alive in so very long a time. I have begun to look forward to the time you sneak up on me when you think I’m not looking. Those fleeting moments have ignited a flame of sorts. So Lord forgive me for I think I have sinned. Because I want to be loved by the sin incarnate”

Your mind swims with possibilities. This is a surprise. You never expected Jordan to reciprocate those feelings. Your heart thuds wildly as you realize something with a start. If you have Jordan’s journal right now, it means that your journal is currently in Jordan’s possession. And it has much more graphic and detailed entries inside it. Your own personal confessional of sorts that always begin with, “Forgive me Jordan, for I have sinned”

It holds several anecdotes about your little crush on the priest. Long paragraphs about the things you’d like to do with him |++ Arousal ++Jordan’s corruption

A lewd warmth fills you, as you think about running into Jordan tomorrow. You feel excited about the situation but it’s too tame to remove the cloud over your mind |-stress

[Silly bonus lols]- You are in the temple garden watering the flowers. You hear some footsteps approaching. It’s Jordan. He doesn’t look you in the eye, as he silently hands you over your journal. You can see his hands trembling a little. A wild tinge of red dusting his cheeks. When you think he’ll leave, he reaches inside his robe and pulls out a bottle. He uncorks it and just like that pours the entire contents all over your head. It seeps through your clothes making you shudder slightly as your habit clings to your body.

“It’s holy water” he mumbles, “You need it”. He leaves you alone in the garden, shivering as he walks back inside |++ Jordan’s corruption

The weeping cherry blossom

Eddie Alette x GN Reader Hanahaki AU

[ Eddie belongs to @xoxoalette ]

CW- Angst, Mentions of blood, gore, death, and insinuation of murder. And slightly ooc Eddie :3 word count- 1607

This was absurd. And this was getting out of hand.

Eddie Alette tried to regulate his breathing, focusing on the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. To calm his traitorous heart that seemed to have a mind of its own around you. Surely, you weren’t so ignorant right? Surely, you must hear the persistent crunch of his jaw clenching and unclenching. How had you not noticed the crease between his brows that he bore like the first cracks on his fine statuesque face?

The lecture today seemed to stretch. The professor’s voice was nothing but a distant echo buried under the tidal wave of your cloying presence beside him. The cold late winter breeze hurtled in through a window nearby and kissed your skin, making the dusting of pink on your cheeks more prominent and Eddie felt the firm jolt of something deep within his chest settle its roots.

A choke…a cough…and a loud desperate swallow of air, made him sit up straighter in alarm and swear under his breath. Clutching a hand to his mouth, he resisted the urge to hurl when he tasted the vanilla and oranges on the flirty breeze that had sifted through your locks and attacked his senses.

He could feel it coming. It fluttered in his throat like dread, bile and the sickening sweetness that enveloped each pore on his body, slowly smothering him with every gulp of air he heaved.

Unable to take it anymore, he hurriedly rose from his seat.The legs of the chair scraped roughly on the ground, before it hit the floor with a loud clatter. He had to escape now or else everyone would know. Even worse, you would know, and he simply wouldn't have it.

Your eyes and several others’ snapped towards the silver haired man who was frantically shoving his belongings in his backpack as if possessed.

“Mr.Alette, any problems?” the professor inquired brusquely.

“Yes” he spat, mismatched eyes flitting to yours and holding them captive as he conveyed a multitude of things he hated about you, through his withering glare alone. 

With some effort, he broke eye contact and looked towards the lecturer who grew impatient, the longer this interruption lasted, “I’m feeling woozy. Suffocated” he muttered and you rolled your eyes at the barely concealed jab at your expense.

“Alright you're excused” the old professor waved a hand dismissing Eddie and jumped back where he had left off. 

Yet your attention was stolen. Your gaze never broke its silent vigil of the man whom you were partnered with for an assignment. The man who never hid his distaste with your general presence.

The man who intrigued yet irritated you to no ends. 

‘Would it kill him to smile sometimes?’ you mused, lips pursed as you watched him leave.

Little did you know, if Eddie ever let that first bloom of a loving smile touch his lips, he would not be the only one dying that day.

* * *

Weeks. It had been weeks since that unfateful day, when you were partnered with him by the professor for the assignment. He had hemmed and hawed but still somehow managed to tolerate your presence just fine until that evening.

If he could pinpoint the exact second where it all went downhill, he would sell his soul to go back in time and end this right then and there. 

End you.

It would be easier wouldn't it? Perhaps it would be better than lying in a mess of his own blood. Congealed with sakura petals that clung to his bare chest, a pathetic evidence of his love for you.

Love. The term tasted bitter on his tongue, and it disgusted him to feel his chest ache each time you were around. What was it about you that made him want to cherish yet obliterate every memory he held of you?

It was a hard thing for Eddie to come to terms with the first time it happened. His mismatched eyes had squinted and burned holes into the X-ray his doctor had handed him after running all the necessary tests.

“You’re dying Mr.Alette” he had stated bluntly, “It's a rare condition, not incurable but still painful” the wizened man had looked at Eddie with such pity that he wanted to do nothing but to hunt you down and show you, just how much he loved you at that moment.

The thought had tickled his fancy and taken up his imagination on several occasions between slow hours at work. More so than he liked to admit. Would you scream, cry or silently take the pain he would inflict on you? 

Would you then understand the way his lungs burned each time the flowery blooms surged up his throat and took an ounce of his life with them? Will you sympathize with the way his heart contracted within its cage and begged to be held by you?

Will you…would you…then love him back?

Eddie sank further into his bed, his snowy lashes fluttered gently as he stared absently at the ceiling of his room, haunted by these incessant questions rattling in his mind.

Autumn had fallen for the cold caress of winter and winter soon melted for the new blush of spring, yet the raging war between his mind and heart never seemed to find its victor.

On some days he hated you. With a vile pettiness for not loving him back. And on others he loved you so passionately that he happily wanted to wilt away as the tree of your love bloomed and spread its branches within his chest. 

* * *

Summer was soon approaching and Eddie was at his limits. The episodes had increased tenfold making him weaker than ever.

So as he sat crouching beside the tub in his bathroom, body trembling with the amount of blood and petals he had hurled, a bitter laugh escaped him. The cruel reality of his feelings surged like wild tears to his glinting eyes and threatened to choke him with the beautiful pain again.

He bit back a sigh and rested his head on the cold tiled wall. The air sneaked in from underneath the door and cooled the beads of sweat rolling down his head and chest. 

With a shaky grip on his phone, and a finality about him Eddie dialed a number.

* * *

Warm sunlight filtered through the gaps between the shades lining the window of the hospital room. Eddie’s hair was splayed upon the pillow like a silver halo. Beautiful eyes blinked slowly as they adjusted to the brightness in the room.

He could hear the faint murmur of a conversation between his sister and the doctor as they discussed when he was to be discharged.

His body was spry. He felt lighter than ever, yet something weighed heavy on his subconscious mind. That gnawing feeling of forgetting something important, made it difficult for him to rest well. 

He knew that he was sick. Remembered that he had undergone surgery. But there seemed to be a gaping hole in his memories surrounding his illness.

 No matter the amount of times he pestered Diva about his memory loss, she would evasively change the subject. Or would parrot the doctor and tell him that this was normal and he was experiencing the side effects of his treatment.

He didn't notice the way she quietly slid a polaroid into her purse, safely tucking it away from his sight. For Diva simply didn't have the heart to tell him about the way they had to pry the picture from his fingers, as he was rushed into surgery.

About how she had found him, unconscious on his bathroom floor. The way he had desperately tried to remember you. Or the fact that his last call to you had gone straight to voicemail.

She had half a mind to find a secluded corner and burn that little picture to smoke. To wipe away the evening that had almost made her lose her brother. Later, Maybe when she had less pressing matters to attend to.

* * *

The summer break seemed like it would go on forever. Diva sighed as she rolled around in her bed, finding a comfortable position until she finally settled on her stomach. She continued flipping through her photo albums, occasionally pausing to coo and marvel at some silly or goofy pictures that caught her attention. The loud whirr of the lawn mower alerted her of Eddie’s presence outside in the garden.

Her brother had gone back to his normal, strict routine and jobs. He had taken more of them to fill the dent left behind by his surgery on his bank account. 

She hummed under her breath, until her fingers paused and her eyes found a polaroid with the bottom corner singed. A small smile tugged at her pouty lips as she thumbed along the edge of the photo.

It was a picture of Eddie. His eyes shone with amusement and a rare sweet grin adorned his lips as he looked upon your sleeping form on the table, seated next to him. 

You had come over for your assignment. And halfway through the evening, ended up dozing, clutching the ends of Eddie’s hoodie in your grasp, like a vice. Although stoic around you most times, Diva had caught her brother, watching you softly as you curled up in sleep, unaware.

She wasn't able to resist then, when she had sneakily captured the moment on her camera. And she wasn't able to entirely burn the picture, knowing that even though his memories of you were now gone, Eddie had still loved you. Loved you enough to throw his life away.