The silence in the house felt heavier than usual, like the walls themselves were still holding echoes of the fight from the night before. Harsh words. Slammed doors. The final, hollow feeling of Cameron walking away. You hadn’t slept much. Every room felt colder without him, every breath tight in your chest.

So when the knock came at the door, it startled you.

You dragged yourself out of bed, hair messy, sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder. You weren’t expecting anyone—not after last night. But when you opened the door, you froze.

Malachi stood there.

Your heart stuttered. It was almost cruel, how much he looked like Cameron—same dark eyes, same sharp jawline—but the energy was completely different. Where Cameron was warm and careful, Malachi always seemed to buzz with something more intense, more unpredictable. You opened your mouth to say something, but before you could speak, he stepped forward.

And kissed you.

It was sudden, desperate—his hands coming up to cup your face, mouth pressing against yours like he’d been waiting for this. Your body tensed, but your mind was still spinning. Hurt and loneliness surged up all at once, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you kissed him back.

It all blurred after that.

Hands tangled in hair. Shirts pulled off. Breathless laughter and fingers fumbling down the hall. Neither of you spoke as you stumbled into your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you like it could block out reality. There was nothing soft about it—just need. Heat. Emotion that neither of you could name.