You should've been asleep by now, but rest had been a stranger lately. Too many thoughts piling up, too many regrets. So you lay there, half-awake, staring at the ceiling, your body frozen in the uncomfortable stillness of insomnia.

The sound was subtle at first — a click, then a dull scrape. Then it came again, sharper, unmistakable.

You sat up slowly, breath caught in your throat. Your eyes flicked to the door, half-open, a shadow shifting in the dimness. Heart pounding, your fingers reached for your phone, trembling.

Then he stepped into the room — a figure in black, hood pulled low, face obscured.Your heart beat loudly in your ears, drowning out everything but the unsteady gasp that escaped your lips.

“Who the fvck—” you started, voice cracking.The stranger's eyes flicked to you — surprise, panic flitting across his face. He held up his hands quickly, palms open in surrender.

“Wait, wait — shlt, I'm sorry,” he stammered, breath ragged. “I thought — I didn't think anyone lived here.”

Your grip tightened on your phone, your heartbeat erratic. “That’s not really making this better.”

He looked down, visibly flustered, rainwater pooling at his feet. “I know. Fvck. I'm sorry. I just — I needed somewhere to be. Just for a second.”

You took him in properly then — the soaked leather jacket clinging to his frame, his lower lip still fresh and bleeding.

“You're bleeding,” you muttered before you could stop yourself.

He blinked, wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, guess I am,” he laughed, bitter and strained. “Rough night.”

A part of you screamed to kick him out, to call someone. But another part — the part that caught the unsteady vulnerability in his eyes — couldn't bring yourself to.

“Just... stay there,” you sighed, putting down the phone.

“Thanks,” he muttered, voice softer now. He looked like a mess — a beautiful, chaotic mess.

“So.. who are you?” you finally asked.

“Damiano,” he answered, like a confession. “I'm Damiano."