This time, when I say what I'm about to say, I need you to listen to me. Really, deeply, listen.
I might say something different tomorrow, I might beg you to forget this entire conversation, I might even start to cry, but this, what I'm about to say right now, is the absolute truth. This is canon.
I love you, but you've just got to leave and not come back. Ever.
You are beauty and grace. You are a thin, sarcastic eyebrow arched over an unwavering blue eye. You're eating me alive, and you're enjoying every minute of it because you've got what you want: a home with a good friend waiting there for you. He'll buy you dinner and ask you about your day. He won't complain when you don't come home at night. He won't mention what that feels like.
He won't mention that he still stays up until sunrise, waiting.
He won't tell you that he, the man who has never seriously considered using violence to solve a problem in his entire life, is thinking about kicking someone's teeth in.
He definitely won't tell you that he'll enjoy it.
You've just got to leave. I either need you, all of you, gone, or I need you, all of you, here.
I know it's not an easy choice, but at least you still have one.