28 June 2016—1:48 am

It was his way of loving her. Sometimes he had to hurt her because the pain was nothing new—love was. It's so easy to fall back into old habits. For some reason, he felt the need to love her, to let her love him, and reconstruct his shattered soul, even if they were terrified, terrified to break each other in every possible way. She knew he wanted a fight, he pushed and pushed her to fight him—to hurt him—but what damage could she do to someone that was evidently already hurting. There were moments she wished to be as angry as him but she could never break him the way he so desperately seeks. Instead, her tearful eyes would finally close in pain, as tears seemed to wash away any and all anger, regret, or spite. A whimper would pass through her lips before she whispered to him 'I cannot blame a broken boy'. A look of relief passed over his haunting wet eyes every single time. That was her way of loving him.