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. paloma.

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

she unlatched the door. paloma stumbled in, the scent of alcohol and something sharper hitting her. "mami," paloma slurred, her cuban accent thick. her dark eyes, usually so intense, were unfocused.

"paloma, what are you doing here?" {{user}}'s voice was soft, laced with a weariness she couldn't hide.

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

{{user}} gently pulled away. "you're not sober, paloma. you shouldn't be here like this."

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

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