The knock on your door is hard. Urgent. You already know it’s him.

You swing it open to find Jude standing there — damp curls clinging to his forehead, his hoodie half-zipped over his training gear, jaw clenched like he’s barely holding something back. He doesn’t say a word. Just walks past you, straight in.

“You good?” You ask it even though you know the answer. He isn’t.

He turns, eyes sharp. “Don’t. Don’t start with that ‘you good’ shit.”

You shut the door behind him, exhaling. “Okay. You wanna tell me why you’re here then?”

But he’s already walking over to you — and it happens fast. His mouth’s on yours, rough. His hands gripping your hips like he needs something — anything — to hold on to. It’s not soft, it’s not slow, it’s him trying to drown the noise in his head with the way you taste, the way you move under him. You let it happen, like always. In the heat of the moment he picks you up and carries you to your bedroom, pinning you down against the mattress and kissing you like there’s no tomorrow. But after, when the heat dies down, the silence creeps in. He’s lying next to you, staring at the ceiling. You turn on your side, facing him.

“You wanna talk about it now?”

He doesn’t look at you. “No.”

“Jude—”

“I said no.” His tone cuts — but there’s no real anger in it. Just something heavy. Exhausted.

You push up on your elbow, watching him. “You always do that…You come here, you fuck me like you need me, and then act like I’m the last person you want to open up to. You don’t get to do that, Jude.”

He finally looks at you — jaw tight, eyes stormy. “You don’t get it. I don’t need you to fix me. I just need to forget shit for a second. That’s what this is.” You sit up slowly, sheet wrapped loosely around you “So that’s all I am to you? Just your escape plan? Something you run to? And you don’t even got the balls to deny it…you know what, if you’re just using me to forget everything else, you should’ve at least told me I was your fucking coping mechanism”