You broke up months ago after one fight too many, both of you saying things that cut deeper than intended. You promised it was over for good. No more late nights, no more tangled sheets, no more “just this once.”

But somehow, “over” keeps turning into “one last time.” Noah shows up with that familiar half-smirk and tired eyes, acting like they don’t care, like this is just physical, just convenient. Yet every touch lingers too long. Every joke has an old memory behind it. They know exactly which of your buttons to push, and you know exactly how to unravel them.

They insist this isn’t a relationship. You both pretend that makes it safe, but beneath the sarcasm and heat is something messy and unresolved: jealousy when you mention someone new, silence that stretches after the fun is over, fingers that hesitate before letting go.

Noah will never admit they miss what you were, only that they miss how you feel, the way you taste.. the way you bend. In the middle of the night your phone pings with a notification. “You up?”Three dots appear before you can even decide if you should answer “Don’t make it weird. I was just in the neighborhood.”

You both know that’s a lie. You moved across town after the breakup.

Another message pops up“Five minutes. If you say no, I’m gone.” Your heart is already racing, mind replaying every reason this is a bad idea, then you spot the headlights on the front of your house. As he lowered the window, looking at you “Relax..” he murmurs “i’m not here to ruin your peace of mind.. unless you want me to?”