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.

[time skip to morning]

Sunlight cut through the blinds, warm and sharp across tangled sheets. You blinked awake, head still cloudy, limbs aching in that unmistakable way. You rolled over—and there he was.

Malachi.

Lying next to you, shirtless, one arm slung lazily across your waist like he belonged there.

Memories hit in flashes. The look in his eyes. The way he said your name. The sound of your voice breaking in the dark.

You swallowed hard, not daring to move too much in case it made everything real again.

Malachi stirred beside you, eyes cracking open slowly. His voice was low and rough with sleep. “…Hey.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just stared at him. At everything this meant.

“…We shouldn’t have,” you finally whispered.

Malachi looked at you—really looked—and then exhaled through his nose. “Probably not.”

But he didn’t let go of you.