nothing pleased nightowl more than to hear words of praise fall from your lips. awarding him with a simple ‘good job’ did wonders for him. and you never minded telling him so even for doing the simplest task because his proud and loving smile was a reward for you as well. despite how supportive you were of him, he was never satisfied with the idea that he was good enough for you. because of that, little things that nagged you in the back of your mind stayed there. it became frustrating. most days you spent your time avoiding him because you knew you couldn’t confront him. and it was tiring. because god damn it, nightowl. if i can’t make a comment about your shoes being left out without you crying how the fuck do you expect me to have an open conversation with you? it wasn’t his fault. you knew this. years and years of pressure and being told you weren’t enough would do that to you. so you two had your fights, screaming at each other and letting it all out. and then you spent your nights lying together in bed, him tracing shapes on your skin as you held him tight because i’m sorry i didn’t mean all that. those were long nights. neither of you wanting to fall asleep first as guilt hung on your shoulders. and the next day, when neither of you said a word to each other about the night before, but stayed close to each other, mindful of your actions, that’s what the two of you called love.