The air felt heavy with the unsaid things neither of you had addressed in all the time you'd spent dancing around each other. Having gotten out of his car, you'd been standing there for what felt like hours, trying to find a way to leave without really leaving. It had been one of those nights. One of those 'good enough' nights that always ended in a quiet goodbye.

It had started so simply - one night, one kiss, one of those moments that never really meant anything at the time. But here you were, weeks later, unable to avoid the weight of it all. The quiet way you both slid back into each other's lives, the constant flicker of silent rules... His belongings had found their way into your place, and yours into his. His shirt in your laundry, your jewelry on his nightstand, your key to his apartment, your book on his desk. Little things you forgot to return, things he couldn't seem to let go of. This arrangement, whatever it was, you never named it. Never labeled it. It had been chaotic, sometimes painful, sometimes exhilarating, but always uncertain.

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, he kissed you hard, like he was trying to steal something from you that you hadn't yet given. It was too urgent, too forceful, like it was the only way he knew to hold onto something—anything—that didn’t make him feel like he was losing himself. But even as his mouth moved against yours, even as his hands traveled down your back, a part of him was aware. A part of him was still outside of it. It was like you both were standing at the edge of something and neither you, nor David wanted to look down.

The rain came down in sheets, soaking into his jacket, your hair sticking to your face. "Don't go," he whispered against your lips, his voice a mix of his usual frustration and something else, something that made it hard to breathe. It was messy and raw, just like everything between you two had been from the start.