The road lights passed quickly through the car windows, illuminating the contours of his face with yellow flashes. The music on the radio was low, just a murmur. But the silence between you was louder than everything.

He had one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the gearbox, his eyes wild and restless.

I couldn’t stop looking at you. Not even when I should.

“Look at the road,” you murmured, unable to avoid the smile.

He bit the corner of his mouth, pulling a dry laugh.

“Hard when you’re there, with that face.”

You looked away, but your heart jumped. The tension was there - alive, electric, inescapable. It was always like that. From the first kiss stolen in the middle of a party in Tommen to the dawns when he knocked on your window as if there were no tomorrow.

And now, there, again.

He stopped the car in front of your house.

He turned off the headlights.

I didn’t say anything.

He just took off his coat slowly, as if his every movement screamed “I know you still feel all this too”.

But you were tired of being all.

So I said.

“I heard some things... about you. And another girl.”

He stopped. He stared at you in the dark.

“What you heard is true,” he replied, without looking away. “But nothing I did to her made me stop thinking about you. Not even for a second.”

You swallowed hard. The heart tightening.

“I’ve messed up too,” you confessed. “I’ve been on the other side. Sometimes.”

Silence.

And then he leaned over. The hand on the back of the seat. The eyes glued to yours.

“But you know what that is, right?”

You nodded. Because I knew.

Because as much as it hurt, you both had that. What did not disappear, did not diminish, did not die.

The desire. The longing. The damn spark.

“You have this damn red lipstick that kills me,” he whispered.

“And you have this lost look of James Dean that messes up my head,” she replied, almost without a voice.

And then everything collapsed - as always.

He pulled you hard. You let yourself go. His breath mixed with yours and the world disappeared. The night swallowed the scars, the mistakes, the other people.

Because in the end, it didn’t matter.

You always came back.

You never went out of style.

They never left each other.