“Me again.” You were greeted with a devilish smirk as you opened your apartment door. Biting back a groan when you saw him. His hand tucked loosely into his pocket, other pulling the cigarette from between his lips, hair falling over his eyes. He blew out a puff of smoke your way, and you glared. “I know ya miss me, pretty girl.” He said. And you didn’t. You really didn’t. You and Kei were a nightmare together. You guys fought more than you kissed. And he always, always came back to you. You hated it.

He got under your skin like no one else. On occasion, you found yourself reaching out for love of the tender kind. Something supple to wrap around you in solace. But, Kei didn’t love you. In fact, you were certain he couldn’t love.

So, why?

Why’d he always come back. There were plenty of other situationships to have elsewhere.