3: When Love Stood Still (1)

Part 1: A Time Loop

Syrus 

Rain poured down in heavy sheets, soaking through my clothes and chilling me to the bone. I stood on the side of the road, trembling as I wiped at my eyes, though it was useless—the tears wouldn't stop, and neither would the rain.

"It hurts," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the endless patter of raindrops against the pavement. But even through the ache in my chest, I knew I had made the right choice. Breaking up with Vale wasn't easy. For so long, he had been my world—the person who once made me feel loved, safe. Our first years together had been filled with happiness—laughter, stolen kisses, whispered promises of forever. But forever had started to fade.

At some point, he had become distant. The warmth between us turned cold, and the love that once felt so effortless had begun to crack. Fights became more frequent. Conversations turned into arguments, and silence felt heavier than words. I had tried to hold on. I had tried to fix what was breaking. But love wasn't supposed to feel like a battle. So, in the end, I made the decision to let go. Even if it shattered my heart.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I let out a shaky breath and stared at the empty street ahead. The world felt lonelier now, but at least, for the first time in a long time, I wasn't pretending everything was okay.

By the time I stepped into my apartment, my clothes were heavy with rain, my body numb from the cold. The soft click of the door closing behind me echoed through the empty space, and for the first time, I truly felt it—how quiet, how lifeless everything had become.

The lights were off, the air still and untouched. No laughter, no warmth, no presence other than my own.

My gaze drifted around the room, landing on the couch where we used to sit together, the kitchen where we had once cooked side by side, the small framed photo still resting on the shelf—one I hadn't yet found the strength to put away.

The moment I stepped into the apartment, the memories hit me like a flood breaking through a fragile dam. Vale's laughter. The way he used to pull me into his arms after a long day. The whispered I love you before we fell asleep. And then—our fights. The cold silence. The way he slowly slipped away, little by little, until there was nothing left to hold on to.

My legs gave out. I collapsed onto the floor, my hands gripping the soaked fabric of my shirt as if I could somehow hold myself together. But I couldn't. The pain I had been suppressing for so long—the ache buried deep in my chest—finally broke free.

Tears streamed down my face, sobs tearing from my throat and filling the empty room. I cried for everything we had been, for everything we had lost. For the love that had slipped through my fingers, no matter how desperately I had tried to hold on.

Minutes passed. Then hours. I stayed there, curled up on the cold floor, drowning in my grief. It wasn't until the soft glow of morning seeped through the curtains that my cries finally faded. The night had passed. And for the first time, I had to face the weight of a future without Vale.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. My body was stiff, my head throbbing from all the crying, but the weight in my chest felt just a little lighter—just enough for me to move.

With a deep breath, I pushed myself up and staggered toward the bathroom. Warm water cascaded over me, soothing my aching muscles. I let it run longer than usual, as if the heat could do more than just cleanse my body—as if it could somehow wash away the lingering pain in my heart.

By the time I stepped out, a towel wrapped around my waist, exhaustion clung to me. I ran a hand through my damp hair and sighed. Today is a new day. I had to keep moving forward.

But the moment I walked into the living room, my heart nearly stopped. Vale was there. He sat casually on the couch, his expression unreadable, a box placed beside him.

I froze, my breath hitching. For a second, I thought I was hallucinating. But then he looked up, his piercing gaze locking onto mine, and reality crashed over me like a shockwave.

Heat rushed to my face as I realized my state of undress. Without thinking, I spun around and bolted straight into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

"What the hell?" I muttered under my breath, my pulse hammering. I grabbed the first shirt and pair of sweatpants I could find, yanking them on as I forced myself to calm down. My hands were still shaking slightly when I finally called out, "Why are you here, Vale?"

A pause. Then his voice—calm, distant. "I came to get my things."

Of course. That's all it was. My fingers clenched around the fabric of my shirt as I swallowed the lump in my throat. My eyes flickered to the door before I asked, "And the box? What's inside?"

Vale exhaled sharply, as if he hadn't expected the question. "No idea. It was just sitting outside your door. I figured it was a delivery for you."

I frowned. A box? I wasn't expecting anything.

Now dressed, I stepped out of my room and walked straight toward the mysterious package, ignoring Vale's gaze as it followed my every move. I hesitated for a moment before carefully lifting the lid.

A sudden, vibrant glow flooded the room. I instinctively squinted, shielding my eyes. But as the light faded, my gaze landed on the object inside—a teddy bear.

Its fur was white as freshly fallen snow, soft and pristine. But what caught my attention most was the intricate clock design stitched onto its belly. It wasn't just an ordinary stuffed toy. Something about it felt... different. Almost unreal.

I ran my fingers over the delicate embroidery, my brows furrowing. "Who delivered this?" I murmured to myself. Before I could think further, Vale's voice cut through the silence, laced with irritation. "Is that a gift from your new lover?"

I stiffened. My grip on the teddy bear tightened slightly as I slowly turned to face him, my expression darkening. Then, with an icy glare, I shot back, "I'm not like you—who always has a spare lover waiting."

The air between us grew thick with tension, the weight of our past pressing down on us like a suffocating force. Vale's expression twisted with something that almost looked like hurt. His voice was barely a whisper. "You know that's not true."

I didn't look at him. Instead, I focused on the teddy bear in my hands, my fingers tracing the clock design stitched into its belly. My voice was calm, yet each word carried the weight of everything he had put me through. "How could I know?" I said coldly. "I'm not the one who suddenly became distant."

My words struck him like a blade. I could see it in the way his jaw clenched, the way his eyes darkened. Because he knew I was right. He had been the one to pull away without reason, to let the warmth between us fade. So why now? Why did he act like he cared? Like he was jealous? I wasn't interested in his excuses anymore.

With a quiet sigh, I placed the teddy bear on the side of the couch and turned away. Seeing him there, looking conflicted, was exhausting. I started toward the kitchen, pausing only for a moment at the doorway. Without looking back, I spoke in a flat tone. "Do what you came here for and leave when you're done."

And with that, I disappeared into the kitchen, not wanting to hear whatever he had to say next.

An hour passed. The occasional sound of shuffling and zippers echoed through the apartment as Vale packed up the last of his things. I stayed in the kitchen, pretending to be busy, pretending like his presence didn't affect me. But every second felt heavier, suffocating in a way I couldn't put into words.

Finally, he was done. I heard the soft click of a suitcase handle locking into place, followed by the sound of his footsteps. Then, his voice. "Can we talk for a second?"

I stilled, my fingers tightening around the mug I had been pretending to clean. For a moment, I didn't move, didn't breathe. Then, slowly, I turned to face him. "There's nothing for us to talk about."

I smiled. The kind of smile that wasn't real—the one that said I didn't want to talk to him ever again. The one that hid just how much this was breaking me inside.

Vale stared at me, his expression unreadable at first. Then, slowly, the sadness settled in his eyes. A sadness I refused to acknowledge. Seconds stretched between us, heavy with words left unspoken. But in the end, he didn't argue. Didn't push.

He only sighed, defeated. Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

The door opened.

And then, it closed.

The moment he was gone, my legs gave out. I collapsed onto the floor, my body trembling from exhaustion—the kind that came from forcing myself to act tough, from pretending that seeing him again hadn't hurt like hell. Tears fell before I could stop them. My breath hitched as a sob tore from my throat, raw and broken. I cried all over again. For everything we had been. For everything we had lost. For the love I still hadn't stopped longing for.

The sobs had finally quieted. My body still felt weak, my chest hollow, but I was done crying. I had to be. With a shaky breath, I pushed myself off the floor and walked toward the couch, where the strange teddy bear sat. I reached for it, pulling it into my arms and hugging it tightly, seeking even the smallest bit of comfort from its soft warmth.

But the moment I did, a sudden burst of light erupted from the bear. Blinding. Overwhelming. I squeezed my eyes shut, instinctively recoiling from the intensity. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, panic creeping in—until the light faded.

Slowly, I blinked my eyes open. And then—I froze.

The teddy bear was back inside the box. Placed exactly as it had been before. Confusion twisted in my chest, but before I could even process what had just happened, my gaze shifted—and my breath caught. Vale.

He stood there, staring at me with the same shocked expression I must've had. His brows were furrowed, his body tense, like he couldn't believe what he was seeing either. My stomach twisted.

"Why are you still here?!" I shouted, my voice sharp with frustration.

Vale blinked, snapping out of his daze. "I—I don't know," he admitted, his voice laced with confusion.

I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling harshly. My patience was already stretched thin, and whatever this was—I didn't have the energy to deal with it. Without another word, I grabbed Vale by the arm and dragged him toward the door.

"Hey—what the hell? Syrus—" he protested, trying to pull back. "My stuff is still inside!"

"I don't care," I snapped, shoving him outside before slamming the door shut in his face.

But the second I turned around—

Light engulfed the room once again. Blinding. Overwhelming.

And then—just like before—

I was back in the same spot.

The teddy bear sat in its box. Vale stood to the side, looking just as baffled as before. Like none of it had ever happened.

I tried again. Grabbing Vale's wrist, I yanked him toward the door, determined to shove him out and end whatever twisted joke this was. But no matter how hard I tried—no matter how many times I pushed, pulled, or even cursed under my breath—we ended up right back where we started.

The teddy bear in its box. Vale standing there, looking just as dumbfounded as I felt.

Frustrated and exhausted, I let out a harsh sigh before collapsing onto the couch. My head fell into my hands as I tried to make sense of this—any of this.

Why? How? What the hell was happening? I was still catching my breath when Vale's voice broke through the silence. "...It's like we're in a time loop."

I lifted my head slightly, staring at him. His tone wasn't teasing or sarcastic—just quiet. Serious. Like he was still trying to grasp the reality of what he just said. The words sank in, slow and suffocating. A time loop. I swallowed. My fingers curled into my palms as the realization hit me.

"...How?" I muttered, frustration bleeding into my voice.

Vale didn't answer. He just lifted a hand and pointed—straight at the teddy bear inside the box.

Vale crossed his arms, eyes still fixed on the teddy bear. "It seems the teddy bear is the key to all of this."

His words made my stomach twist. Frustration bubbled up, and before I could stop myself, I turned on him. "This is your fault," I snapped, pointing an accusing finger at him. "If you hadn't brought that damn box inside, none of this would've happened!"

Vale's eyes widened in disbelief before narrowing. "Oh, so now it's my fault?" he shot back. "You were the one who opened it, Syrus! I didn't force you to touch it!"

I clenched my fists, my pulse pounding in my ears. "If you hadn't taken it inside, I wouldn't have had to open it in the first place!"

Vale scoffed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "That's the dumbest argument I've ever heard. What, were you physically incapable of leaving a box alone?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "You were curious, just admit it."

The argument spiraled from there—accusations thrown back and forth, voices rising, words sharp and cutting.

We fell into old habits too easily.

Then—suddenly—the room tilted.

A strange dizziness washed over me, and before I could react, my legs gave out. My vision blurred, the world darkening around me. The last thing I heard was Vale's voice, no longer irritated—but panicked. "Syrus!"

He sounded desperate, almost frantic. And as the darkness pulled me under, one thought lingered in my mind—one I couldn't ignore. Why does he still sound like he cares?