The Distance He Erases

The rain didn’t stop.

It just… softened.

Like everything else in this place.

Too quiet.

Too careful.

Too wrong.

I shouldn’t have felt calm.

That was the first mistake.

Sitting there, eating in silence while he stayed across the room, not watching too closely, not speaking too much—

It felt… normal.

Disgusting.

I hated it.

“You’re thinking again.”

I didn’t look up.

“Stop saying that like you know what I’m thinking.”

“I do.”

Of course you do. Annoying.

I stood up abruptly, needing space.

Too close.

Too quiet.

Too… him.

I walked toward the window, the faint sound of rain filling the silence between us.

Cold glass met my fingertips.

Grounding.

Real.

Not like this twisted calm he created.

“You’ll get sick standing there.”

“Good.”

A pause.

“…don’t say things you don’t mean.”

I turned sharply.

“And stop acting like you care.”

There it is.

The shift.

Small.

But real.

His gaze didn’t change much—

But something underneath it did.

Tighter.

Colder.

“I don’t act,” he said quietly.

“Yeah? Then what is this?” I snapped. “Cooking food I like? Removing things I hate? Watching me sleep??”

Silence.

Then—

“Taking care of what’s mine.”

My chest tightened.

There it is.

I laughed bitterly. “I’m not yours.”

Wrong answer.

He moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

Before I could step back—

His hand caught my wrist.

Firm.

Unyielding.

“You keep saying that,” he murmured.

My breath hitched.

“Because it’s true.”

His grip tightened slightly.

“Then why are you still here?”

“I—”

“Say it.”

His voice dropped.

Quiet.

Dangerous.

“I said—”

“Say it.”

My chest felt tight again.

Air—gone.

“…let go.”

“No.”

He pulled me closer.

Not gentle this time.

Not soft.

Controlled.

Deliberate.

My back hit the wall lightly—

Not enough to hurt.

Enough to stop me.

“You’re confused,” he said.

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

His hand moved from my wrist to the wall beside my head.

Blocking.

Trapping.

Without touching more than necessary.

“You don’t like me being kind,” he continued.

“That’s not—”

“And you don’t like it when I’m not.”

That—

That shut me up.

I hate that.

“So which one do you want?”

His voice was softer now.

Worse.

“I don’t want anything from you.”

Lie.

He knew it.

I knew it.

We both ignored it.

His fingers lifted—

Brushed lightly against my cheek.

Gentle.

Careful.

And somehow… more suffocating than before.

“You notice everything I do,” he said quietly.

My breath stuttered.

“You remember what I say.”

His thumb traced just under my eye.

Slow.

“You react to me.”

My heart wouldn’t calm down.

“And then…”

A pause.

His gaze darkened slightly.

“…you pretend it doesn’t matter.”

“I hate you,” I whispered.

There it is again. Classic line.

His expression didn’t change.

“I know.”

Then—

His hand dropped.

Distance returned.

Too suddenly.

“You can hate me,” he continued calmly.

Turning away.

Walking back like nothing happened.

Like he didn’t just trap me between him and the wall.

Like my heart wasn’t still racing.

“But don’t misunderstand something.”

I didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe properly.

Didn’t think properly.

“You don’t get to choose how I feel about you.”

Silence.

Heavy.

Final.

“And I don’t stop,” he added.

A pause.

Then—

“Just because you don’t understand it yet.”

The room felt smaller again.

The air heavier.

The calm—gone.

Completely.

And the worst part?

My legs felt weak.

Not from fear.

Not completely.

Something else.

Something I refused to name.

Because if I did…

Then maybe he was right.

And I hated that more than anything.

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