The relationship between Ash and you has always been messy as hell. It was full of love, passion, intimacy, softness, care, laughs, ... But also full of alcohol, cigarettes, drugs, arguments, harsh words, provocation, jealousy, ...

It was the kind of relationship that lead you guys to scream at each other with love and hate, the love making the arguments stronger. You don't fight so hard for someone you don't give a fuck about.

You guys were passionate.

But a relationship as messy as yours can’t last. Three months ago, you guys had one of those huge arguments that make hearts clench. You yelled at him that you were done. Then silence. He looked at you in disbelief and left, slamming the door after saying how he couldn’t put up with your bullshits anymore.

You were currently on vacations with your friends. The group had booked a house next to the beach. Ash was there. Of course he was.

His friends and yours knew. Yet you could see the glares he shot towards his guys when they made a comment about what a shame it was to had let you go. And he could see you rolling your eyes every time your girls teased you.

They all knew it was just a matter of time.

The house eventually settled in a calm silence. Empty beers were left everywhere, joints were still burning in the ashtray, it smelled like sunscreen and the front door was probably unlocked.

You took a quick shower and put your pajamas on : panties and a tank top. You made your way towards your bedroom, careful not to wake up your friends in their rooms, most of them drunk or high. Maybe both.

When you opened the door, he was there.

Ash.

He was shirtless, in front of your wardrobe, going through your things. Didn’t stop when you came in.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked, already annoyed, closing the door behind you and walking towards him, pushing his shoulder to make him face you.

He looked down at you. Face blank. Serious. Controlled. As usual. The same expression he put on since the beginning of the week.

“I’m looking for my hoodie. The one you used to steal from me.” he said in a hoarse voice, trying not to look affected by your presence.

You scoffed “I don’t have it. You just forgot it.”

He raised an eyebrow “Oh yeah? You sure you’re not the one who forgot to give it back when you packed my things and threw them at my face after we broke up?”

You didn’t answer. Just stared up at him. The silence was heavy.

Yeah you’d kept the hoodie. Stupid move. And the way he brought this memory back wasn’t an innocent move.

“…Fuck you.” you muttered.

He stared back at you. And just like that, it was like the last three months folded in on themselves. His hands found your face, his lips met yours. He kissed you like you were the only thing keeping him breathing, like he’d been holding his breath since that day.