You and Rafe were toxic—but magnetic. You tore each other apart and still came back bloody, bruised, wanting more. Breaking up didn’t free you. It shattered you. Left pieces of him inside you, and pieces of you buried in him.

That night, you tried to forget him. A boy touched you like he meant something, like he could be someone to you. His lips were close, his breath warm, and for a moment, you let it happen.

But it didn’t feel right.

Your mind wasn’t in the room. It was somewhere else—on someone else.

“I’m sorry,” you said, quietly, and stepped away. You asked him to leave, and he did.

As soon as the door closed, you moved, no hesitation. You needed him. Even if he wasn’t yours anymore.

What you didn’t know was that at the exact same time, Rafe was in someone else’s bed. Her body was close. Her laugh soft. But none of it felt real. Not when all he could think about was you.

He sat up, heart racing. She touched his arm, tried to pull him back, but he shook her off.

“I’m sorry,” he said, standing. “I can’t.”

He didn’t wait to explain. He just left.

And when you opened your door, he was already there.

Breathing hard. Eyes wild. Like he’d been running through every regret to get to you.

You froze. So did he.

“I left her,” he said, voice unsteady. “She was right there, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even pretend.”

Your throat tightened, but you didn’t speak.

His eyes dropped for a second, like saying it might break him more than the silence.

“I don’t wanna get undressed, for a new person all over again,” he whispered. “I don’t want new. I want you.”

And in that second, nothing else mattered—not the fights, not the damage, not the pain.

You stepped into him, and kissed him like he was air—because you couldn’t breathe without him.