For Good
Things had not been going well for Oner and Doran recently. They were still close but ever since the new season started, it seemed like there has always been this indefinite space between them.
Oner did not like this feeling at all. The feeling of being left alone, being left feeling unwanted by someone he so adored. That is why he decided that he would talk it out with Doran.
The argument had not been loud. That was what made it worse. No shouting. No slammed doors. Just two people sitting on opposite sides of Doran's bed, knees almost touching, both too tired to pretend anymore.
The desk lamp was the only light on, casting a dim glow over their faces, making everything feel smaller, more intimate yet excruciatingly suffocating. It was as though the world had narrowed down to just this room, this moment, where time seemed to have stopped entirely.
Doran had been staring at his hands for a long time, tracing the contours of their palm as if the answers lay hidden within.
"I think..."
He started to say, pausing again as uncertainty washed over them. Oner stomach dropped.
"Don't say it like that."
The weight of those words hung between them like a thick fog.
"Like what?"
Doran asked, his voice trembling slightly.
"Like you've already decided."
Oner replied, a tremor in his tone that betrayed the raw emotions lurking just beneath the surface.
Doran looked up then, meeting Oner's gaze directly for the first time, and that was the answer, a silent confirmation that settled uncomfortably between them. There was a practiced ease in their stillness, yet Doran could see the turmoil swirling in Oner's eyes, the unshed tears glimmering like shards of glass catching the light. It felt as if an invisible barrier had been constructed around them, separating their hearts from their minds, as they both grappled with the unspoken implications of what lay ahead.
The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, emphasizing the quiet that stretched between them like a taut rope. Each tick like a heavy strike at their hearts, underscoring that they were at a crossroad, a moment in time that would define everything that followed.
Oner clenched his fists, knuckles turning white, wishing he could grasp onto even a sliver of what they once had. The memories of laughter shared and dreams woven together felt like distant echoes, fading in the chilly air of the room.
"I don't want to lose you."
Doran finally admitted, each word igniting an ache in their chest. The confession hung there, fragile and trembling like a candle flame threatened by a draft. Oner flinched slightly, the reaction piercing through the other person's calm facade. Doran shuffled back against the wall, trying to find comfort in the coldness of the surface behind them, but it only served to mirror their disquiet.
"I feel like I'm losing myself."
Oner whispered, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through their typically composed exterior. The admission struck Doran like a slap, raw and disarming. He could sense the desperation behind the statement, how the weight of expectations and unresolved tensions had begun to fray the edges of their spirits.
"I never wanted it to come to this."
Oner said, his voice breaking.
"We can work through anything if we just talk. Just take a step back and breathe."
Doran tried to offer reassurance, though they each knew the reality of the situation. Breathing felt immensely heavy when the air was thick with unresolved issues and deep-seated fears. Oner sighed, their shoulders slumping ever so slightly, creating a ripple of hopelessness that spread between them.
"I don't think we can go back."
Oner said quietly, each word a surrender, a letting go of something they both cherished deeply.
"And I don't know if we should."
As those words slipped into the quiet air, Doran felt the slow unraveling of what they had once built together, an intricate tapestry now frayed and tangled around them.
The moments that followed were dense with possibility, yet tinged with sadness, as both understood this was a turning point. The realization that their paths might diverge felt like a weight crushing their hearts, yet the sense of inevitability loomed larger, harder to deny.
They had ventured into this labyrinth of emotions together, and now, standing at its heart, they faced the daunting choices ahead, knowing they would carry this night with them always, a bittersweet reminder of what they had and what they might have to forsake.
Doran felt his chest tighten, an all too familiar constriction that seemed to echo the weight of everything unsaid between them.
"We can fix this."
He insisted, trying to cling to a glimmer of hope.
"I know you think that."
Oner replied, their voice low, tinged with resignation.
"It's not just what I think. We always fix everything in the end."
Doran countered, a hint of steel lacing their words, as if recalling the times they had stood shoulder to shoulder against the world. There was a warmth that came with those memories, a sort of confidence in their ability to resolve anything as long as they were together.
Oner's smile was soft and wrecked at the edges, a bittersweet reminder of all that had unspooled between them.
"That's just it. We treat this like something to fix."
The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. Silence enveloped them, stretching on as the air thickened with unspoken thoughts. Doran could feel the gravity of the moment, a double-edged awareness of what they were losing, tempered by the stubborn flicker of hope.
Doran's voice dropped, barely above a whisper.
"So what are you saying?"
Oner inhaled slowly, the sharp intake of breath sounding like it was dragging up something buried deep beneath the surface. He appeared to be preparing himself, as if he was about to dive underwater where things were not so clear.
"I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason, bringing something we must learn."
The words rolled off their tongue almost like a chant, imbued with a certain reverence.
Doran's expression crumpled immediately, a quick flash of pain.
"Don't."
There was a tinge of desperation, a plea not to turn the conversation into something philosophical, something that distanced them from the rawness of their current reality.
But Oner kept going, their voice unsteady but deliberate, revealing layers of complexity hidden beneath their calm exterior.
"And we are led to those who help us most to grow if we let them, and we help them in return."
In that moment, the room felt fragile, like glass about to crack, and Doran was not sure they wanted to see what lay beneath the surface. The weight of the other person's words found a place to settle in his chest, creating a dissonance that was hard to ignore.
"Honestly, I don't know if I believe that's true."
Oner admitted, eyes shining now, reflecting the depth of their thoughts and feelings. There was vulnerability in his gaze, a willingness to bare their soul, and Doran could see the struggle behind those beautiful eyes.
"But I know I'm who I am today because I knew you."
Doran shook his head, tears already falling.
"You don't get to turn this into something poetic."
"I'm not."
Oner said softly, the sincerity in his tone spreads warmth amid the tension.
"I'm trying to explain."
He stood up, pacing once like they needed the movement to keep from breaking. Thoughts of their time together raced through his mind.
Like a comet pulled from orbit as it passes the sun. Like a ship blown from its mooring by a wind off the sea. Like a stream that meets a boulder halfway through the woods. Like a seed dropped by a bird in the wood.
He looked at Doran then, really looked at him, as if searching for understanding amidst the chaos.
"You changed my direction."
Oner said, abandoning the rhythm for honesty.
"I was so sure of who I was before you. Controlled. Careful. Then, you came in and pulled me completely off course."
Doran's tears were silent now, steady, each one a testament to the unspoken pain and beauty of their connection.
"Who can say if I've been changed for the better?"
Oner whispered, voice trembling like the branches of a tree caught in an unexpected storm. A stepped forward despite himself, the gravity of the moment drawing them closer together.
"I do believe you have been changed for the better."
Doran said, voice breaking open, revealing raw vulnerability.
"And because I knew you...."
Oner swallowed hard, the words catching in his throat like a stubborn knot.
"Because I knew you, I have been changed... for good."
The last words barely made it out, almost swallowed by the weight of the moment.
Doran closed the distance between them and grabbed Oner's hands, gripping tight like he could anchor them back into place. It was as if the touch worked as a lifeline, a bond that defied the tumult of emotions swirling around them. The warmth of Oner's hands steadied him, if only for a fleeting moment.
They gazed into each other's eyes, seeking reassurance in the depths, where both pain and hope resided. The world outside seemed to fall away as they stood together, a fragile poignancy encasing them in a bubble of intimacy, where only their feelings mattered.
"What if I had never met you? What if I never signed that faithful contract?"
Doran asked, his voice a mere whisper, laced with caution and curiosity.
"Would you have been happier, or just more alone?"
Oner hesitated, the question weighing heavily. Life before Doran to him seemed distant and muted, like a book with marked pages that had once held stories but were now overshadowed by the vibrant chapters they wrote together.
"I think about that sometimes."
Oner confessed.
"But I believe the joy and the pain, the goodness and the heartache, everything we experienced throughout life as a whole... they all make us who we are."
Doran's grip tightened involuntarily as if Oner's words unleashed a wave of reflection.
"But it hurts so much."
He argued, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
"Sometimes I wish things could go back to how they were before. When everything felt... simpler."
"Yes, simpler."
Oner echoed, taking a step into the emotional fray.
"But we can't deny the truth. Even in the chaos, there is beauty in our shared experience. We've learned, we've grown, and maybe we've changed into versions of ourselves we never anticipated."
He paused, gauging the impact of their words.
"Isn't there power in that?"
Feeling the heat of the moment, Doran exhaled slowly, trying to let the weight of uncertainty and fear lift off their shoulders. The vulnerability Oner offered was like gentle rain, soothing and nourishing the dry patches of regret.
"You're right."
Doran admitted, a soft acceptance blooming in their chest.
"It's just hard to see sometimes, with everything swirling around us."
Oner nodded, the understanding etched in their eyes offering solace.
"I know. But we're here now, together. We can navigate this even if it means walking through the storm. I wouldn't trade this bond for anything, even when it feels overwhelming."
And as they stood there, hands clasped tightly, both Oner and Doran began to recognize that their journey was far from over. It was only the beginning of a new chapter, one that promised challenges but also hope, growth, and an unyielding bond that refused to break. Together, they stood resilient in the face of uncertainty, finding strength in each other as they embraced the wondrous, messy complexity of their transformed lives.
"If I changed you for the better." Doran said, shaking.
"Why are you leaving?"
"Because I don't know who I am without you anymore."
Oner answered honestly.
"And that isn't love. That's dependency."
Doran flinched like he had been struck.
"I started shrinking."
Oner continued, the tears he held back for so long now finally falling freely down his cheeks.
"I let you decide things for me. I let you carry my fears. I loved how safe you made me feel. But in doing so, I stopped standing on my own."
"We could work on that."
Doran insisted, their voice trembling slightly, a mix of desperation and hope.
"I need to learn how to do it alone."
Oner replied, the conviction in his voice growing stronger. The truth of it was unbearable for both of them, hanging in the air like a dark cloud that neither could dissipate.
"I don't want to lose you."
Doran whispered, barely able to meet the other person's gaze.
"You're not losing me."
Oner said, managing a small, bittersweet smile.
"You're just not... keeping me."
The difference felt microscopic and yet enormous at the same time, echoing in the silence that followed. They stood there, hands still tangled together, both fully aware that love was never the issue between them.
That realization, laden with an unbearable sadness, was the true tragedy of their situation. Oner pressed their forehead to Doran's one last time. The warmth between them lingered.
"You're the greatest thing that's ever happened to me."
He breathed, emotion thick in the air.
"Then stay."
Doran pleaded, a whisper filled with desperation that reflected his inner turmoil. Oner closed his eyes, feeling the weight of the moment.
"If I stay..."
He started saying slowly.
"... I'll never grow past this version of myself. And you deserve someone who doesn't need you to survive."
Doran let out a broken sound, half sob, half protest, the rawness of the moment etching itself deeply into their memory.
"I love you."
Oner said again, the words spilling out with an urgency that matched the intensity in their heart. They both knew it was still true, profoundly true, despite the tumult that surrounded them.
"I love you too."
Doran replied, the sincerity in his voice mingled with the looming sense of loss. That was still true too.
Oner slowly untangled their fingers from Doran's grasp. It felt like unweaving something sacred, a ritual that marked the end of an era. As their hands fell apart, a profound emptiness filled the space around them, each individual heartbeat resonating with the finality of their decision.
When the door clicked shut behind him, the apartment did not feel angry or explosive. Instead, it felt hollow, as if it exhaled the remnants of their shared smiles, whispered secrets, and the laughter that once filled the air.
Doran stood in the center of the room, surrounded by proof that something beautiful had existed there. The hollow echoes seemed to bear witness to both love and loss, each shadow a reminder of the moments they shared.
And even through the devastation, one truth lingered, sharp and permanent: they had been changed, for good. Neither of them could deny the depth of their connection or the journey they had undertaken together, even as they prepared to walk their separate paths.
The fragrance of memories hung in the air, a mix of sweet and bitter, and the realization of personal growth weighed heavily upon Oner's heart. It was not merely about stepping away from his beloved, it was about stepping toward themselves.
In that quiet aftermath, Doran sank onto the couch, surrounded by remnants of a life once intertwined. Oner walked away, feeling the weight of his decision yet buoyed by the flicker of hope for his own future.
Moments passed in silence, the echoes of their entwined past a bittersweet melody that would resonate with them both. Love had never been the issue. Instead, it was the clarity emerging from their entanglement that would allow them, in time, to embrace their true selves.
—————————————————
because i knew you
because i knew you
i have been changed
for good
💗💗💗💗💗💗
sau khi chơi threads lâu ngày thì bé quyết định trở lại làm au wattpad :p
ê mà mn thấy tiếng anh em viết như nào?
oke khum?
Bạn đang đọc truyện trên: Truyen3h.Co