He left because he hates her.

Well, he loves her.

He's heard that love and hate are two sides of the same coin.

He knows because he watched his parents move like magnets.

They were drawn together and repelled apart.

He thinks that love and hate must feel the same.

Or at least, they feel the same to him.

Passionate. Powerful. Fearful.

Is that wrong? That he can't tell the difference between love and hate?

That he doesn't know the difference?

He'd cross the galaxy for her.

And she already crossed it for him.

But she ran away.

She escaped and left him scarred and alone.

He pretends that it doesn't hurt.

But the way she ignores him – it's killing me inside.

Because he can't ignore her.

He can't.

He can smell her in the air.

He can feel her on his skin.

He breathes her into his lungs

She is always there.

How does she do it?

How does she live with this pain?

This crippling, burning, searing pain?

This pain burns more than his hate.

Burns more than his love.

Burns more than his broken soul.

But he hates her because he loves her.

And he knows that she will never love him back.

He fucked up.

But she fucked up too.

The difference is that he knows he is evil.

He knows that he's made mistakes.

And his biggest mistake is loving her.