—Request—

You weren’t supposed to be crying tonight. Not in your car. Not outside your own mansion. Not with mascara streaked down your cheeks like some sad, ruined painting.

But here you were red eyes, shaky hands, your LV weekender bag thrown into the backseat like it betrayed you too. The fight with your mum wasn’t just a normal yelling match. It was brutal. Hurtful. She said things she couldn’t take back and then she slapped you. For the first time in your life.

Tears blurred your vision as you grabbed your phone with shaking hands. There was only one person you wanted no, needed to call. Jude.

You barely got two words out before he interrupted, voice low and protective. “Where are you? I’m sending my driver right now.”

Not even thirty minutes later, you were stepping out of a black car with your LV duffle in hand, mascara smudged and hoodie pulled tight. The huge gates of Jude’s mansion opened slowly, and there he was barefoot, in grey sweatpants and a black tee, looking like he just rolled out of bed but still somehow annoyingly perfect.

He opened the door wider, and his expression shifted the second he saw your face.

“Come here and tell me everything” he whispered, pulling you in without hesitation.

You didn’t even try to hold it together anymore. Your arms wrapped around his waist as he held you tighter than he ever had, letting you cry into his chest in silence. The warmth of his body, the smell of his cologne, the quiet comfort it made everything else feel so far away.