One would say that Hal Jordan should have learned his lesson by now.

Falling for someone like you once was reckless. Falling for you twice? That was either stupidity or fate, and Hal had never been much for fate. He had walked away before, convinced that it was for the best, that you were too different, too volatile. He told himself you deserved something steadier than a man who spent half his life lightyears away, and maybe he deserved something simpler than someone who carried shadows in their veins.

But life had a funny way of proving him wrong.

Somehow, through war, heartbreak, and a hundred bad decisions, you two had found your way back to each other. The second time around, Hal had sworn he wouldn’t screw it up. He had sworn he wouldn’t lose you again.

And yet, here he was. Standing outside your apartment in the dead of night, debating whether or not he had already ruined everything.

The last argument had been bad—not the shouting kind, not the kind that ended with slammed doors and flying furniture. No, this had been worse. Cold words, quiet tension, the weight of old wounds pressing between them like a blade. He had seen it in your eyes before you turned away from him, that look that said you were preparing to be alone again.

Hal never feared a fight. But that look? That scared him more than any battle ever could.

So here he was, knocking on your door because he refused to let history repeat itself.

There was a pause. Too long.

Then, finally, the door cracked open.

You stood there in the dim light, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. You were good at that—masking whatever storm brewed behind them.

Hal forced a smirk, leaning against the doorframe even as his gut twisted. “So… this is the part where you slam the door in my face, or do I get a chance to plead my case?”