Lithuania ‧₊˚. ⸝⸝ 04

"Aš myliu tave."
I love you.
The phrase hangs in the air, a grenade whose pin has been pulled.
For a heartbeat, there is only the sound of your own breathing, suddenly deafening. The spell shatters. The heat in the room turns to ice.
You freeze. Then, with a force that shocks both of you, you shove him back, scrambling away from the bed. The moonlight now falls on his face, pale and stricken, his eyes wide with instant, horrified realization.
"N-No, wait-" he stammers, his voice raw. "I didn't- that wasn't-"
But you're already grabbing your clothes, your movements frantic. You can't stay here. Not with those words echoing in the dark.
"Please," he begs, lunging from the bed, his own state of undress forgotten in his panic. He stumbles, catching your wrist. His touch, which moments ago was everything, now feels like a brand. "Please, don't go. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it. It just- it- it slipped out. It doesn't have to mean anything!"
He’s lying. The terror in his eyes says it means everything. And that is the most terrifying thing of all. He tries to pull you back, his grip desperate, his voice cracking. "Please, just forget I said it! We can forget it. We can go back, Please!"
But the words are out. They can't be taken back. And the raw, unvarnished truth of them has already burned a hole in the careful, uncomplicated world you'd built together in the dark.