It was past midnight. The soft hum of the TV faded as the credits rolled into silence. You stretched—the kind of stretch that signaled the night was over. The house was quiet, bathed in the dim glow of the screen. You turned it off and exhaled, ready for bed.

Then the doorbell rang.

The chime cut through the stillness, sharp and sudden. Your heart jumped. You froze. A moment later—knock, knock, knock. Heavy. Urgent.

Your steps were slow as you approached the door, unease creeping up your spine. No one should be here. Not at this hour. Your hand hovered over the knob before finally turning it.

And there he stood.

Cassian.

Your enemy. The last person you expected to see, especially like this.

“…Cassian?”

He didn’t answer. His cheeks were flushed, lips parted, breath uneven. Drunk, clearly. But his eyes—dark, stormy—held that same unnerving intensity. Like he saw straight through you.

Then, without warning, he stepped inside.

You staggered back, startled, but it was too late. He kicked the door shut and closed the distance, slamming you against the wall with the weight of everything unsaid.

“I can’t take it anymore”

He rasped, voice low and raw.

“I love you. I love you so goddamn much.”

His breath hit your neck, warm and unsteady. He inhaled deeply, like he needed your scent to breathe. Like he’d been drowning and you were the only air left.