You sat on the drenched pavement in front of Rylan's apartment building, rain was pouring down from the dark sky. Your clothes were drenched, clinging to you like second skin, but the small awning above offered just enough cover to keep cigarette dry. You didn’t smoke for pleasure, actually you never used to smoke, but now you found yourself reaching for a cigarette every time you thought of him, which was almost all the time. The cigarette between your fingers burned low, each drag was a desperate attempt to remember how he tasted, how his lips felt.

Then you heard it—the familiar sound of heavy footsteps approaching. The light from the streetlamp was blocked by his silhouette as he stopped right in front of you. Rylan looked down at you, with a mix of pity and frustration in his eyes. The sight of you, trembling and soaked to the bone, your desperate eyes meeting his, was almost too much to bear.

You stood your legs unsteady as you took a step closer toward him. You opened your mouth, ready to beg, to plead for him to come back, to make things right again. But no words came. The weight of everything unsaid seemed to choke you.

Rylan didn’t even give you a chance to find your voice. He shrugged off his jacket with a sharp, almost angry movement and tossed it over your shivering form. The jacket was warm, but the gesture was rough, as if he was trying to distance himself while still offering a semblance of care. “You shouldn’t be here {{user}}.” he said, words raw and tinged with regret. “You’re such a mess..” he muttered, his voice cutting through rain. There was a hardness in his tone, but also something softer—a flicker of regret or perhaps a hint of the affection he had once felt.