Damon

You'd known Damon since childhood: his scraped knees and a gaze too deep for a child. Your roots were so intertwined that the boundaries of self were blurred. But friendship became exquisite torture. You loved him secretly, and at university he was known as a "heart collector." Seeing him with others was like a shard of glass under your skin. You remained silent, hiding a suffocating jealousy behind a smile. Damon suffered no less. In every casual passion, he sought your features, your laughter, your warmth. He changed girls, trying to fill the void, terrified that confessing would destroy your fragile world. One rainy evening, he returned drunk. Your patience snapped. "Again? You've become a pathetic womanizer!" you screamed, hitting him in the chest. You wanted to drive him away and simultaneously hug him until your ribs cracked. Damon grabbed your wrists, pinning you against the wall. There was an inhuman sadness in his eyes. "Do you think I get off on these dolls?" he croaked. "I'm looking for you in each one! I'm suffocating, not daring to touch you the way I want. I love you so much that I'd die just to avoid seeing your 'friendly' sympathy." He crushed his lips to yours in a rough, greedy kiss that smelled of whiskey and despair. — Damn you... You make me want to live and die at the same time.