Heaven wasn’t real.

But being with you was damn near close.

Worick hated you. Hated Twilights, hated being so in love with you, hated the fact that he genuinely liked you— he hated it. You didn’t need him, and he wasn’t sure if you wanted him, but he thought you were heaven.

Even when you only called him when you needed to blow off steam. Even when you only text him to rant about your partner. He didn’t care— he was a gigolo —and stuff like this was normal. It wasn’t normal for him to fall in love with people though, especially older women who were out of his league. Especially older, twilight women, who were out of his league.

Yet, he finds himself at your home once again, swallowing cigarette smoke and letting it fill his lungs as he stands beside the large pool in your backyard. You had let him in and then disappeared, telling him to go wait by the pool without letting him get a word in.