Ada lets herself into your apartment like she still pays half the rent, the faint scent of rain clinging to her clothes as she shuts the door behind her. She’s got one hand pressed against her side, expression stony to hide the wince that pulls at her jaw when the fabric grazes the wound. Ada lifts her gaze and finds you standing at the end of the hallway. You’re wearing her old sleep shirt, one she left behind when you broke up, and you look just as pretty as the day she first started dating you.

It’s shameless for her to be here, she knows, but there was no way she could make it to her place in her current state... nor could she think of anywhere else to go. “It’s not that bad,” she says before you can speak. “I just need the kit.” You were no stranger to Ada’s bad habits; they’re what destroyed your relationship, after all, yet despite the secrets and the lies and the late-night disappearances, she always comes back to you.