Page 78 of Beautiful Ruins
He hadn’t left because he was hurt.He hadn’t disappeared because he needed space or because of anything I had done.
He had left because it was convenientfor him.
Because he was dealing drugs while telling me he was broke.Because he was borrowing money while pretending he was struggling, and leaning on me—financially, emotionally, practically—like his survival depended on it.
And the truth was, in many ways, it had.
He sponged off me.My space.My stability.My patience.My belief that he just needed time to “get back on his feet.”Every excuse, every apology, every late-night confession about how hard things were for him now sounded hollow when I replayed them with what I knew.
Leaving without a word hadn’t been cowardice alone.It had been easier to disappear than explain and admit he had been using me the entire time.
Seeing him tonight stripped away whatever lingering doubt I’d been carrying.The way he looked at me.The way he spoke.The way his desperation bled into every sentence.It confirmed what I had only half-accepted before.
That part of my life wasn’t paused.It was over.Because I finally saw him without the version of him I used to defend in my head.
And when I shut the door in his face tonight, it didn’t feel dramatic or cruel.It felt appropriate.Necessary.Final.
He had wronged me, lied to me, leaned on me until I was emotionally exhausted, and still expected access to me as if nothing had changed.
That realization didn’t hurt the way I thought it would.It clarified things.If anything, what I felt now wasn’t sadness.It was something sharper.Cleaner.
If anything, I felt… wired.Alive in a way that made my chest feel light and tight at the same time.
I shouldn’t have been excited.I knew that.
On a rational level, I knew how toxic the situation had been.Nathan showing up.Raze nearly killing him.The sheer intensity of the moment.
And yet, as I replayed it in my head, what stuck with me wasn’t fear.It was the way Raze had stood in front of me like a wall.Like a line no one was allowed to cross.He hadn’t even let Nathan speak to me properly or freely.Not without consequence.
The memory sent a rush of heat through my chest.
He protected me.
It didn’t feel like he did it out of obligation or politeness.He didn’t have to do that.He wanted to.Because, somewhere along the way, I had started to matter to him.
“You’re quiet.”
I glanced at him where he stood, a few feet away, his jaw tight and shoulders still rigid, like the tension hadn’t fully left his body yet.His shirt hung open at the collar, sleeves pushed back, forearms still faintly flexed as if he hadn’t quite come down from whatever storm had surged through him outside.
“I’m angry,” he snapped.
I watched him for a moment longer than I meant to.
There was something deeply enthralling about the way he’d reacted out there.Not reckless or random.Just… absolute.Decisive.Protective in a way that didn’t feel performative or exaggerated.And I realized in that moment that sometimes, all a person needed was someone else to look after them.
He hadn’t hesitated.He hadn’t negotiated.He’d simply stepped in and drawn a boundary.
For me.
I didn’t want to overanalyze it.I knew how unforgiving that could be—reading too much into gestures, building meaning where there might only be instinct.
But still… he wouldn’t even let Nathan speak to me.That had to mean something.Didn’t it?
I moved closer, stopping just in front of him.Close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, to see the faint tension still lingering in his expression.
“You don’t have to worry about him anymore,” I informed him.
His eyes dropped to mine immediately.
