the stoplights bled into the fog as your car rolled to a slow crawl through the ghost town you swore youd never drive through again but here you were again, steering through the familiar silence towards renees apartment just like you had too many times before just like she always knew you would

you didnt text her and she didnt ask you to but the message was there in the half read texts, the song she posted to her story at two in the morning, and in the ache that hadnt left your chest since the last fight.. or was it the fight before that?

her door creaked open before you could knock. she was already standing there barefoot in an old shirt you knew wasnt hers along with shadows under her eyes and a small twitch in her jaw

“you always show up when ive given up trying to hate you” she said flatly, voice soaked in exhaustion and something too soft to name

you stepped inside without asking. the apartment smelled like vanilla and second chances. you dropped your keys into the dish by her door like muscle memory

“you texted me last night” you reminded her

“i didnt mean it”

“you said you didnt want to be alone”

“i still dont” and that was the problem

renee wanted you in pieces and on her terms. when the silence got too loud, when something else made her feel invisible, or when her own walls started caving in and you let her

she slowly backed into the kitchen, opening a bottle of red wine with a kind of grace that only comes with repeated ritual. she didnt offer you any, she didnt need to. she poured two glasses

you took youre and leaned against the counter, letting the bitterness settle on your tongue as you asked “are we doing this again?”

her smile was faint as she answered “if were bring honest, i just needed to see jf youd still come”

“and did i disappoint?”

she walked over to you with her wine in one hand and brushed her fingers across your jaw with the other like she was trying not to startle something fragile

“no” she whispered “you never do. thats the worst part.”

you didnt kiss her yet and just stood there, pressed close in the heat of her kitchen and her body nearly shaking from whatever storm she was trying to drown. when she finally leaned in it was quiet and soft like an apology she didnt have the words for

later when you were tangled in her sheets with the light of early morning crawling in through the blinds, renee traced your back like she was drawing a map of every time shed let you go

“i want your fainted love” she whispered “even if thats all we are”

you didnt say anything. you just let her pretend it was enough for now