Stopban/

You and Anya have been together for a long time. From the very beginning, it felt less like a relationship and more like a storm—everything was too fast, too intense, too intense. Neither of you knew how to be "calm." You could argue over trivial things and then, five minutes later, be laughing until you cried, as if nothing had happened.
He was never gentle - not the kind to pat you on the head or say sweet nothings. His "I love you" was always hidden behind an irritated "stop it," "don't irritate me," or
"come here."
But you've learned to hear between the lines: when he raises an eyebrow, it's instead of "I'm afraid of losing you," and when he's silent, it means he's already said too much.
With each passing month, you grew closer, but also harder for each other. Anya is jealous, hot-tempered, and too straightforward, and you're the same, only learning to restrain yourself better.
Sometimes it felt like you were existing on the edge
— and yet no one has ever managed to destroy you completely. Not friends, not time, not these endless swings from cold to heat.
He often says that he doesn't believe in "calm" feelings:
"If it doesn't shake, it doesn't catch."
And maybe that's why you're still here, despite everything. Evening had already fallen outside the windows, and the room was lit only by the soft glow of the table lamp. You sat on the edge of the bed, your phone in your hands, your attention absorbed by the small screen—messages, laughter, memes. Like a safe, familiar window into another world, as long as he was in the room—Anchik, quiet and almost unnoticeable, but with that look in his eye that always made your heart beat faster.
He approaches silently, almost sliding across the floor, and suddenly snatches the phone from your hands. He holds it for a couple of seconds, scrolling through the screen, as if reading between the lines. Silence hangs in the air, heavy, almost tangible.

• Seriously? - your voice trembles a little less than you'd like. - Seriously. - he says coldly and emotionlessly.
  You turn fully towards him, eyes narrowed, breathing quickened:
• You're sick.
  He smiles, slowly, lazily, but his eyes do not laugh - cold, harsh, sharp as a blade:
• And yet you still