(Eli’s POV)
I’ve always believed that if you want something, you fight for it.
And I want Iris.
Not just as a friend. Not just as someone I care about. I want her in my life, in my arms, in my future.
But how can I make her see that when she keeps running away?
She’s been avoiding me for days now. Not answering my texts. Not meeting my eyes when we accidentally cross paths. I know she’s trying to create distance, but I also know she doesn’t really want to.
She’s scared.
Of what? Of me? Of herself? Of us?
I need to do something. I can’t just sit around and wait for her to come to me. If she won’t talk to me, I’ll make her.
Present Day – Iris’s Apartment
I stand outside her door, debating whether to knock or just barge in. She might get mad. She might not even open the door.
But I have to try.
I take a deep breath and knock. “Iris.”
Silence.
I knock again, this time louder. “I know you’re in there. Open up.”
Still nothing.
I clench my jaw. “If you don’t open the door, I swear I’ll stand here all night.”
A few seconds pass before I hear soft footsteps. Then, finally, the door creaks open slightly.
Iris appears, her face half-hidden behind the door. She looks tired—pale, eyes slightly swollen like she hasn’t been sleeping well. My chest tightens at the sight.
She avoids my gaze. “Eli, what are you doing here?”
I sigh. “Really? That’s the first thing you say to me?”
She swallows but doesn’t answer.
I take a step closer. “Iris… please. Just talk to me.”
She grips the door, like she’s debating whether to let me in or shut me out again. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
I shake my head. “Bullshit.”
Her eyes widen slightly at my tone, but I don’t back down.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” I continue. “Ever since I told you how I feel. And I don’t get it. If you don’t feel the same, just tell me. If you want me to leave you alone, say it. But don’t act like I don’t exist.”
She hesitates, biting her lip. “It’s not that simple, Eli.”
“Yes, it is,” I say firmly. “You don’t have to protect me from whatever it is you’re scared of. I can handle it.”
She lets out a shaky breath. “No, you can’t.”
My heart clenches at the pain in her voice. “Try me.”
She looks at me then—really looks at me. And for the first time, I see it.
Not just sadness. Not just fear.
But something else.
Something that tells me she does feel something for me… but she’s too afraid to admit it.
I take a step closer, lowering my voice. “Iris, I meant what I said. I like you. And I’m not going anywhere. No matter what you think, no matter what you’re scared of—I’m staying.”
She inhales sharply. “Eli…”
I reach out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Let me in.”
She closes her eyes, like she’s fighting some internal battle. And for a moment, I think she’s about to push me away again.
But then—
She opens the door.
And finally, she lets me in.
(Iris’s POV – Continuation)
I should’ve kept the door shut.
I should’ve ignored him, let him think I wasn’t home, and waited until he gave up.
But the truth is—he wouldn’t have. Eli isn’t the type to walk away just because I make things difficult.
And maybe… deep down, I don’t want him to walk away.
So, I let him in.
Now, we’re sitting in my small living room. He’s watching me, waiting for an explanation. I can feel his gaze, heavy and unrelenting.
I hug my knees to my chest, my mind racing.
Where do I even start?
“Iris.” His voice is soft but firm. “Why are you pushing me away?”
I don’t answer.
He exhales sharply, leaning forward. “You can trust me.”
I shut my eyes. No, I can’t.
Because if I do, he’ll see the parts of me that even I don’t want to face.
“Eli…” My voice cracks. “You think you know me. But you don’t.”
His jaw tightens. “Then tell me. Help me understand.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. He makes it sound so easy. Like all I have to do is say the words and everything will be fine.
But it won’t be.
It never is.
“I’m not who you think I am,” I whisper. “I’m not just quiet. I’m not just moody. I’m… I’m sick, Eli.”
His brows furrow. “Sick?”
I force myself to meet his gaze. “I have bipolar disorder.”
His expression stills. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. He just stares at me, processing my words.
And I hate it.
I hate the waiting. The wondering. The fear that any second now, he’ll realize I’m too much to handle and leave—just like Christian did.
Just like everyone eventually does.
But Eli doesn’t move.
He just says, “Okay.”
I blink. “Okay?”
He nods. “Yeah. It’s okay and I don’t care.”
I search his face for signs of pity, discomfort—anything—but there’s none. He’s just… Eli. Calm. Steady. Unshaken.
I shake my head. “You don’t understand—”
“Then make me understand.” His voice is gentle but firm. “Iris, I’m not running away. I'm serious to you,”
My chest tightens.
Because that’s what everyone says at first.
And then, when they see the real me—the highs that turn reckless, the lows that feel like drowning—they leave.
They always leave.
“I hurt people, Eli,” I whisper. “I push them away. I say things I don’t mean. I get angry for no reason. I disappear for days. I—I don’t want to do that to you.”
He leans forward; eyes filled with something I can’t name. “Then let me stay.”
Tears burn in my eyes. “And what if one day you can’t?”
He exhales, reaching out carefully, like he’s afraid I’ll pull away. But I don’t.
He takes my hand, squeezing it gently. “Then I’ll fight to stay.”
And for the first time in a long time, I want to believe him.
But believing means risking everything.
And I don’t know if I can handle breaking all over again.