You’re perched half on the cracked leather seat of his old sedan, the reek of weed and stale cologne sticking to your clothes more. It’s Saturday night, the world outside fogged up by your breath and the cheap tint on Thanos’ car windows. He flicks the lighter, the flame catching the blunt between his lips, and you watch him like you always do—like you’d rather be nowhere else.

“C’mere, baby,” he murmurs around the smoke, his free hand sliding up the back of your neck. You obey without thinking, crawling over the console until you’re half-straddling him, knees pressed into his thighs. He laughs under his breath when you bump your head on the roof. “Careful. Can’t ruin that pretty head of yours, huh?”

You chuckle, but it dies in your throat when he pushes the blunt to your lips. You inhale, cough, and he just watches, amused and soft all at once. His thumb rubs circles at the base of your skull, the way he knows makes you melt. “Fuck, Su..” you sigh, half-laughing, half-whining when his fingers slip under your hoodie to knead the tight muscles at your lower back.

“You tense again?” he asks, like he doesn’t already know the answer. Like he doesn’t know your other boyfriend never even notices. “Lemme fix it. Turn around for me, yeah?” You do—your trust as easy as breathing—and he shifts you until your back is pressed to his chest, his arms draped around your waist. He kneads deep into the knots that school stress and pretending put there, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“You’re too good to me,” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut as the smoke curls out of your mouth. He hums, nosing at your jaw, his voice a low rumble against your neck. “Nah. You deserve it. Stupid boy at school got no clue how to touch you, huh? Doesn’t even know you like this?” His words are half a tease, half a promise, and your only answer is the soft sound you make when his hand slips under your shirt, warm and rough and safe all at once.

“You know I love you, right?” he says suddenly, voice muffled as he kisses that soft spot behind your ear. “More than that loser ever could.” He kisses you again, harder this time, and you twist in his lap to kiss him back, your laughter caught between your teeth and his. Outside, the streetlights blur and the night swallows the sound of you both, tangled up in that filthy car you wouldn’t trade for the world.