𝓘 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓘 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓾𝓹

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The sirens outside cried like they always did—sharp, echoing reminders of everything ((user)) tried to silence.

I sat curled up in the window of her apartment, rain tapping against the glass, my phone was forgotten on the floor, playing that song again.

"𝓘 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵 𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓷 𝓘 𝓷𝓮𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓾𝓹"

Just then—a knock.

My stomach flipped. I turned her head slowly, as if afraid it might just be another dream.

But there he was. Rafe. Soaked, shivering, standing on the fire escape outside my window like some damn scene out of a movie.

I opened the window but didn’t step back.

“You have some nerve,” I said, voice flat.

“I had to see you.”

“You had months. You chose silence.”

“I didn’t know what to say—”

“That’s rich.” I laughed bitterly. “You always had something to say. When you were tearing me down. When you walked away like I meant nothing. Now you want to talk?”

“I made mistakes, ((user)).”

“No, Rafe, you are the mistake,” I snapped, her voice cracking under the weight of everything unsaid. “You ruined me. You left me in pieces and now what—just show up in the rain, say some pretty words and expect what? That I’ll fall apart again for you?”

Rafe stepped forward, rainwater dripping from his lashes.

“I don’t expect anything. But don’t pretend like you’re over me.”

I blinked, stunned, jaw clenching. “You don’t know what I’ve been through. You don’t get to come back now and—"

He kissed her.

No warning. No apology. Just collision—like he couldn’t take one more word from her mouth if it wasn’t his name.

I froze. Then melted. My fists pushed against his chest, weakly. My lips gave in. It was all fire and sorrow, anger and longing, like trying to rewrite a tragedy in real time.

When they broke apart, both of them were breathless.

“I still love you,” he said against my lips, voice barely more than a whisper.

I shook her head slowly. “You’re toxic.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “But you still opened the window.”