I tried to cook for him, the day we moved in.

I tried to cook spaghetti.

Bolied the noodles, cooked the meat, baked the bread.

I thought I could actually cook for once.

He took a bite of the burnt bread, a smile on his face as he tried to eat it without grimancing. He put some of the soggy noodles into his mouth, nodding to me, acting as if it tasted good.

"Its horrible, isn't it." I ask sadly and he frezzes, swallowing what's in his mouth before answering,

"It is." My face drops and I look away from him.

"Baby look at me." Atlantic calls but since I'm so fucking stubborn I don't look up. He wraps his arms around me, kissing my neck softly and I finally look at him, sighing. His green eyes holding only love as he stares down at me, that familiar beautiful smile spreading on his face.

"I'm kinda glad it tasted bad." Atlantic says pulling me closer to his hard chest. "Why?" Im confused, why would he want the meal I made for him to taste bad?

"Because it proves to me that you are not perfect, that there are some things you can't do, and it assures me that I can make you my forever since... I'm not perfect either." My hands tighten on his shoulders, mine slumping as his words make my face heat.

"I fucking love you, do you know that Atlantic Walker?" I question him but I don't give him time to answer as I press my lips to his.

The irony is that he was perfect.

In every way and I never understood why he was with a girl like me. I was a handful, fucking bipolar at times and I took away happiness.

I took away his happiness.

Yet he stayed.

Begged me to stay.

Why would you ask me to stay when I was destroying you?

I should've left.

I should've gone as far away from you as possible.

I should've of done so many things.