#no i am not off hiatus

there’s always a tug at your throat whenever you want to say something but shouldn’t. you say it anyways, “i think we should call it quits, this relationship isn’t going anywhere.” across from you, jeno sets down his water, apparently unfazed. he blinks once, seems to process what you’ve just said, and shifts in his seat ever-so-slightly. his demeanor is collected when he replies, “why do you think so?” but his fingers start ticking on the table, a bomb waiting for you to set it off. “because we want different things from our lives.“ he swallows thickly and his fingers stop tapping, “that’s not true, you know that.” you look away from him, severing the tension for a split second before bringing your eyes back to his in a calculated motion. he doesn’t like how it seems like you’ve been preparing for this moment; moreover, he dislikes the thought of you planning this out so thoroughly. “what am i gonna do with my kids while you’re out drinking till 3 in the morning?” jeno sputters, “hey, i wouldn’t— why would i—” but you cut him off, “do you expect me to clean up your messes until you’re dead? is that what you think of me?” your aggravated tone is the flip to the switch, and the bomb goes off. “gaslighting? really?! i can do that too. you never cared for me anyways, you always put yourself first—“ you stand abruptly, the chair behind you falling to the floor. a solemn look smooths over your face and you move quietly to pick up after yourself. jeno watches you warily, albeit fuming, from his seated position as you stand and make leave for the door. “where do you think you’re going?” even with your back turned to him, your face remains still and emotionless. “to collect my things.” another step forward and his stern tone pulls you a step back. “you’re not going anywhere.” you turn stoically to face him. jeno is now standing with his fists stressing the table’s surface. his eyebrows are creased, frustrated tears running down the sides of his cheeks. he shakes as he grabs the glass of water he was drinking from. with one forlorn look at it, jeno hurls it into the wall behind you with full and unadulterated force. something about the way you don’t even flinch gets to him and he crumbles, entirely. jeno’s been running from this day ever since you first agreed to go on a date with him. he knows all too well that his highest highs have always been with you by his side and his lowest lows have been marked without your presence. you’re still in the room, by his side, gloved hands picking apart the shards of glass from his grimy floor. his muscles tense as he realizes the day has come when his worst becomes too much for your benevolence. jeno glances as you discard the gloves into the trash, hoping to relieve his stressors with your forgiving visage. instead, your blank expression cuts him open wide, exposing him to his own vices, ripping the bandaid clean off. he stands still, but he writhes. he stares at you silently as you exit, but he’s screaming your name over and over. he moves his gaze to the floor, now clean of hazard, but he’s bleeding, all over, all at once. the click of the door sounds, and he knows with a sinking sort of feeling that you’ve left him to rot, a wound he’d inflicted upon himself.