Its only been three hours since you left Thomas in the parking lot, yelling at him over what now feels like pointless worries. Every minute you’ve been aching knowing this time the fight is your fault. His broken face when you drove away is still embedded in your mind, the way he slammed his fists against the hood of his car and rested his head defeatedly in his hands. He was broken, and you had to fix him.
You knock softly on his bedroom door, biting your lip and waiting for him to answer.
“Go away Dylan I told you I’m not bloody hungry!” He yells, assuming you are his roommate.
“Thomas it’s me,” you say softly, resting your hand against the door.
There is a moment of silence before he mumbles, “just come in.”
You hesitate, opening the door to see him laying on his back, staring at the ceiling with a blank stare. He doesn’t move when you shut the door behind you.
“I’m sorry for getting mad at you earlier - for yelling,” you pause, waiting for a reaction from him, but he doesn’t flinch. “I just - I’ve never let myself get close to someone, and I was getting scared Thomas. I was getting scared because when you told me you loved me - I - I wanted to say it back, and I’ve never let myself get that close to anyone.”
“You can’t let your past haunt you from moving on,” he mutters, eyes still set on the ceiling.
“I know, thats why I’m here.” Your voice trails off. “I love you Thomas and I need you to know it.” Thomas sits up slowly, his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. “I want to show you, how much I love you.”
“We don’t have to-” he scrambles to sit up, staring at you.
“Thomas-” you cut him off, walking towards the bed as his eyes grow wider, “I want to.”