"C'mon love, I know you missed me." John said as he lit a cigarette under the cover his hand, the light flickering across his face.

He told himself he wouldn't run back to you, that the second breakup was enough to give a message. Then of course, he ended up right back in your bed.

John listened to the rain outside, raindrops on the window reflecting his guilty expression. He couldn't keep hurting you like this, but it was almost as addicting as the cigarette smoke he puffed out of his lungs.