Stockholm Syndrome || Wes Tucker
"Wes?" He busted through the door with a panicked look plastered on his face. "Wes?" I spoke again. He ignored me, he started pacing the floor. He ran his fingers through his slick black hair.
"They are looking for you, and they are going to find you." He stopped dead in his tracks, "you need to leave." He placed his hands on my shoulder, gently. "Please leave." I shook my head no.
"I'm not leaving you, I love you. I know it wrong for me to love you, and it's not right, but I love you." I smiled at him. "Everything's gonna be okay." He smiled, softly.