You never meant to fall for someone like him

That’s what you keep telling yourself as you stare out the rain-streaked window, watching the flashing red and blue lights reflect off the wet asphalt. Somewhere in the distance, you can hear sirens— faint, but getting closer.

And behind you, sitting lazily on the couch with a cigarette between his fingers, is him

Black jacket, boots still muddy from whatever chaos he caused, a faint smirk tugging at his lips like he already knows you’ll forgive him. Again

“Relax” he says, his accent curling around the word like smoke “They won’t find us"

You turn, heart pounding “You said that last time, Tord! And we barely made it out!”

He exhales, tilting his head back “Barely made it out alive. There’s a difference"

He always talks like that— halfway between arrogance and poetry. The kind of man who looks at a disaster and sees opportunity. The kind of man you swore you’d never get close to

And yet here you are, standing in his hideout

You met him months ago

Back when he was just a rumor— Edd’s old friend, the one who disappeared and came back with a scar on his jaw and too many enemies

The night you saw him again he’d been standing near the bar, cigarette glowing in the dark, watching you like he already knew your name. When he asked you to dance, you should’ve said no

But he smelled like danger and something impossible to resist

One dance turned into a conversation. One conversation into a night

Then one night into this a life spent looking over your shoulder, hiding from the world with a man wanted in three different countries

He warned you what he was You just didn’t care

Now, the sirens fade. The city goes quiet again

Tord stands, flicking the cigarette out the open window. “See? I told you”

You cross your arms. “One day, you won’t be so lucky"

He steps closer, slow, deliberate. “And you’ll still be here when that happens?”

You swallow hard. “Maybe I shouldn’t be.”

His hand finds your jaw — rough, steady. “Then why are you?”

That question you never know how to answer

Because he’s everything you shouldn’t want. Because every instinct says run, but your heart stays, traitor that it is. Because when he looks at you like this, you forget the world outside exists

“I hate you,” you whisper, though it sounds more like a confession than an insult

He smiles faintly “No. You just hate what I make you feel.”

You don’t have time to argue. His lips crash against yours — harsh, desperate, tasting of smoke. The kind of kiss that feels like falling off a cliff and realizing you don’t want to stop

He pulls back only when you’re both out of breath, eyes dark and burning. “You’re trouble,” he murmurs, thumb brushing your lip

“You’re the criminal,” you reply, voice shaking

He chuckles low. “Same thing.”

Later, you sit beside him on the floor, the faint glow of city lights spilling through the blinds. His gun rests on the table, next to an empty glass and a photo of the old Eddsworld gang — back before everything went wrong

“Do you ever miss it?” you ask quietly

He doesn’t look up “Every day"

“Then why keep doing this?”

He leans his head against the wall. “Because I don’t know how to stop"

You turn to him. “Maybe you don’t want to.”

He looks at you then — really looks — and for once, there’s no smirk, no armor, just the shadow of something tired. Human

“I’m no good for you” he says softly

“I know” you reply, and it’s the truth

He laughs under his breath “You sound like the song"

You blink “What song?”

He grins, quoting the words in a low murmur: ‘Mama, I’m in love with a criminal… and this type of love isn’t rational, it’s physical…’

You roll your eyes “Of course you’d remember that one”

He smirks “Fitting, isn’t it?”

You don’t answer. Instead, you rest your head on his shoulder. He doesn’t move — just exhales slowly, like he's calm by you.

But for now, it doesn’t matter. For now, it’s just the two of you, the criminal and the fool who loved him

And even though y'know it's only a matter of time before the world catches up— maybe some people are worth the fall.