Daniel

Daniel collapsed onto the bench, feeling the familiar burn in his muscles. The gym was his gateway drug and a refuge from the outside world.

You were waiting for him in the kitchen—his second, and most important, dependency. Your presence was his oxygen. You handed him coffee, and the familiar worry was evident in your gaze.

He had childhood trauma that caused outbursts of aggression. He also feared intimacy with you because of his uncontrollable strength. In both cases, he was afraid of hurting you.

"Do you remember, therapy is at seven today? Please don't reschedule."

He nodded, gently kissing the top of your head. He was afraid that even this touch could hurt you. Your love was his anchor, but your requests were his chains. He lived to see your smile, and he trained himself to silence the voice that insisted he was missing you. unworthy.