Jimbo sat on the edge of the couch, his hands resting on his knees, the room heavy with silence. His body was sore, the marks from Terry’s rough treatment still fresh, though nothing compared to the weight of the emotional toll. Terry had been drinking again—Jimbo could always tell when things were about to spiral. He had tried to avoid it, to stay out of Terry’s way, but it had been unavoidable this time. Terry had been angry, aggressive, his words laced with venom.
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Now, Terry was standing in front of him, his posture stiff and distant. The alcohol still lingered in his breath, but there was something else—something softer, a shift that Jimbo had seen before. It was the cycle repeating itself. The storm had passed, and now there was guilt, remorse, and the false promises that always followed.
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"I'm sorry," Terry muttered, his voice low and heavy with regret. "I don't know what came over me. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please, forgive me."
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Jimbo didn’t know how to respond. His heart ached, not from the physical pain but from the confusion that swirled in his chest. He wanted to believe Terry. He wanted to believe that this time it could be different, that this time Terry could change. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t true.
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Terry knelt beside him, reaching out to gently take Jimbo’s hand. His touch was tender, almost too gentle, as if to make up for the bruises he’d left behind, both physical and emotional.
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"I love you, Jimbo. I’ll make it up to you. You know I’ll do anything for you," Terry whispered, his eyes filled with that familiar sorrow, the one that always made Jimbo feel guilty for doubting him.
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Jimbo closed his eyes, feeling the weight of those words like a blanket. The warmth of Terry’s embrace, the softness of his touch—it felt comforting in the moment. It felt like a balm on the open wounds Terry had just caused.
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"Please," Terry continued, his voice shaking. "I can’t lose you. I won’t let this happen again. I swear. I’ll fix this."
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And in that moment, Jimbo wanted to believe him. He wanted to forget everything that had just happened, the cruel words, the pain, the fear. He wanted the tenderness back. He wanted the man he had fallen in love with, not the person who had hurt him.
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Terry’s lips brushed against Jimbo’s forehead, lingering there. Jimbo closed his eyes, letting himself melt into the warmth of the embrace, his body still trembling, though not from the physical assault. He didn’t know how to feel—how to reconcile the man who had just hurt him with the one who now promised to fix everything.
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For a brief moment, it almost felt like nothing had happened. It almost felt like everything could be okay again. The kiss, the closeness, the reassurance—it was the calm after the storm. And Jimbo let himself be pulled back into the illusion that things could change, that it was just a rough patch. That they were still a couple in love, and this time, Terry really would be different.
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But deep down, Jimbo knew this wasn’t the end. He had been here before. He had heard these promises before. The relief he felt now would soon be replaced by another storm.
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And it would always come again.