His voice is hoarse, scraped raw.
"First..."
He swallows hard.
"Promise me one thing."
I blink, confusion flickering through me. Then I nod slowly, wary but willing to listen. Willing to give him that much.
"What?"
His gaze is steady now—no more tears, no more pleading. Just something quiet and certain and terrifying in its intensity.
"Promise me," he says carefully, each word measured, deliberate, "that if you ever break up with your boyfriend..."
My expression changes. The word breakup hits me like a bullet to the chest.
"...you'll come back to me. No matter when. No matter where. No matter how much time has passed."
I step back.
My hands fall from his face, dropping to my sides like dead weight. The distance between us grows—one step, then another—until the marble floor between us feels like a chasm.
"Moon."
My voice is sharp, cutting, a blade meant to sever whatever this is.
"I don't think you're in your right mind right now."
