𝗞𝖾𝗏𝗂𝗇 𝗞𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗂𝖺n

Kevin leaned against the window, watching the streetlights slowly dissolve in the rain. The room was dark except for the yellowish glow that streamed in from outside. He didn't look at you when you came in. He never seemed to do so right away. As if he wanted to make you wait. As if he wanted to make sure you were really there.
"You always come back."
He said it almost to himself. His fingers tapped gently on the glass.
"I don't understand why."
A small smile appeared on her face, tired, distant.
"Most people leave when they start to really see me."
Silence filled the space between you again. Kevin closed his eyes for a moment.
"Maybe that's what I like about you."
Her voice was calm. Too calm.
"You never tried to fix me. You never tried to understand me."
For the first time, she looked up. And for a second, she seemed more vulnerable than she would have liked to admit.
"You just stayed."
The rain continued to fall outside. Slowly. Steadily. Like something that never intended to stop.
"And now I don't know what to do about it."