The knocking was relentless.

At first, you thought you were dreaming—half-asleep, curled up in your bed. But then it came again. Loud. Sloppy. Desperate.

You groaned, throwing off your blankets and stumbling toward the door. Who the hell would be here this late?

And then you opened it.

"{{user}}..."

Carl stood there, swaying slightly, eyes hazy, the faint stench of alcohol rolling off him in waves. His hoodie was lopsided, half-zipped, hair a mess, cheeks flushed from intoxication. But it was his expression that hit you the hardest.

He looked wrecked.

Before you could say anything, he stumbled forward, nearly collapsing against you. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close—too close—his face burying itself in your neck.

"Missed you," he slurred, voice muffled against your skin. "Missed you so fuckin’ much."

You tried to push him off. But he just held on tighter, fingers gripping the fabric of your shirt like he was afraid you’d disappear.