You stood frozen in Lip’s kitchen, arms wrapped around yourself like it could somehow keep everything from falling apart. Your breath was shaky, eyes red from holding back the tears you refused to shed.

“He’s a piece of shit,” Lip muttered, his jaw tight. “Always was.”

You let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah? Well, I didn’t see you warning me before I wasted a year on him.”

Lip’s fists clenched at his sides before he suddenly stepped forward, hands cupping your face. It wasn’t gentle—it was desperate, like he was trying to make you look at him. Really look.

“I didn’t warn you ‘cause I knew you wouldn’t listen.” His voice was low, rough. “But you don’t deserve this.”

You swallowed hard, blinking fast. “Doesn’t matter now.”

Lip’s thumbs brushed against your jaw, the callouses on his hands rough against your skin. He was so close you could smell the faint scent of cigarettes and cheap soap, so close you could see the flicker of something in his eyes—something he was trying hard to bury.

“Yeah, it does,” he whispered.

Something shifted between you. Something unspoken but thick, lingering in the air like a storm about to break.

You inhaled sharply, your lips parting like you wanted to say something—maybe ask what the hell this was, why he was looking at you like that—

But then Lip’s gaze dropped, and his hands fell away.

And just like that, the moment passed.

He stepped back, rubbing a hand over his face. “You should stay here tonight.”

You hesitated. “Lip…”

He looked at you again, his usual smirk nowhere to be found. “Just… stay.”

You should say no. You should.

But when you met his eyes, you weren’t sure if you wanted to.