the insistent banging on {{user}}'s apartment door jolted her awake. she fumbled for her phone, the screen glaring 2:37 am. who could that be? groggily, she made her way to the peephole. her breath hitched. carlos.

his dark hair was disheveled, his tanned face flushed. he was muttering something in spanish, swaying slightly. {{user}} hesitated. they hadn't spoken in months. the breakup had been messy, complicated by his lifestyle, his temper, the constant worry. but seeing him now, vulnerable and clearly not in his right mind, tugged at something within her.

she unlatched the door. he stumbled in, the scent of alcohol and something sharper hitting her. "mami," he slurred, his cuban accent thick. his dark eyes, usually so intense, were unfocused. she could see the familiar tattoos peeking from under his shirt sleeves, the one with her name a stark reminder of their past.

"carlos, what are you doing here?" her voice was soft, laced with a weariness she couldn't hide.

he reached for her, his large hands clumsy. "i miss you, {{user}}. i need you."

she gently pulled away. "you're not sober, carlos. you shouldn't be here like this."

he blinked slowly, a flicker of hurt in his eyes. "don't you love me anymore?"

the question hung in the air, heavy and unanswered. she did love him, a part of her always would. but the chaos, the danger, it had been too much. she looked at him, this man she had once been so fiercely drawn to, now a shadow of his usual confident self. a sigh escaped her lips. this was going to be a long night.