It was past midnight when the knock came—slow, almost hesitant, but loud enough to echo through the quiet apartment. You froze for a second, half-convinced you were imagining things. But then it came again.

When you opened the door, there he was—Cassian, Cass to everyone close. Messy black hair falling into his eyes, tattoos peeking out from under his rolled-up sleeves, and that stupidly handsome smirk that wasn’t quite there tonight.

“Hey,” he said, voice rough, like he’d been yelling or maybe drinking.

“Cas, it’s—” You glanced at the clock. “It’s 12:40. Why are you here?”

He ran a hand down his face, sighing. “Can I come in?”

You hesitated. He had a girlfriend—always had, though everyone knew it was toxic as hell. You were never going to be that person. Still, there was something in his eyes tonight, something raw.

“Yeah… okay,” you said softly, stepping aside.

He walked in, silent for a moment, before leaning against the counter. “We had another fight,” he muttered.

You crossed your arms, trying not to focus on the way his laugh used to sound when he was happy—hell, how could a laugh be handsome? “So you came here?”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, like he was searching for something. “You’re the only one I trust enough right now.”