He loved her. He loved her so much. He loved her more than anything in the entire world.
And she broke his heart.
She loved him.
She loved him a lot. He made her feel special and wanted, always taking her out, treating her with respect, equality and never, ever made her feel small. They were on the same level, in everything.
She just didn’t love him enough.
He had known her for most of his life. She’d been his best friend. He thought she felt as strongly about him, as he did about her. He didn’t realise it wasn’t like that until it was too late.
It’s hard, when the person you love, says, “sweetheart”, and, “baby”, but throws a glass plate at your head for not cooking their favourite meal. It started with her punching his arm, which she always said was a joke. Then, it was swearing at him, pushing him around, controlling him, giving him restrictions, hitting him.
And then, one night, she threw a glass cup at his head. He was in the hospital for weeks.
She sobbed and sobbed, telling him how sorry she was and how much she loved him. He went back home with her, because it’s hard to look at the person you love, watching them cry over you and still want to leave them. It’s hard when they say, “I love you”, but give you a black eye within the next month.
He never, ever hit her back. He never swore at her. He never raised his voice. He was her personal punching bag. But at night, when she’d crawl into bed with him, pepper his tear stained cheeks with kisses and tell him how sorry she was, he was left feeling sickened. How could she be gentle one minute and awful the next?
How could he still love her?
The worst thing is, he still did. He thought it was his fault. And so, he did everything she wanted, he loved her. She loved bossing him around, humiliating him.
He left her with a heavy heart one night. He’d written her a note, left her messages on her phone. She hadn’t come home that night. He knew she was cheating. He just didn’t have the heart to say anything. He left without looking back, sobbing in his best friend’s car, as they drove away.
He’s better now.
It’s been two years. He’s twenty five now and works at a quirky book shop, he loves it. He still has nightmares and can’t stand physical contact. But he’s free, he’s happier.
And one day, he’ll meet the man that will become his husband. His husband, who will shower him with love, sweet kisses and gentle hugs. His husband, the soldier, who would hold him against his chest, whispering “I love you”, until they both fell asleep.
His husband, who would always ask before touching him, would always make sure he was okay. His husband, who made sweet, sweet love to him, making him feel like the luckiest man in the world, whimpering hotly and moaning into the night.
His husband, the man who loved him more than anything in the entire world.
The man who fixed his broken heart.
The man who said, “I love you”, and meant it.