He showed up at my door at 2:11 a.m.
No warning.
No text.
Just a knock that felt like thunder against my ribs.
I should've ignored it.
Should've wrapped myself tighter in the sheets and willed him away like a bad dream.
But you don't ignore hurricanes when they come looking for you.
You open the damn door and pray you survive it.
---
He looked tired.
Not messy.
Not drunk.
Just… worn.
Like the world had scraped him raw and left only the hunger behind.
"Why are you here?" I asked, voice thin, betraying how many times I'd imagined this exact moment.
He didn't answer right away.
He stepped closer.
Reached up.
Touched my jaw like it was a memory he hadn't forgiven himself for losing.
"I told myself I'd stay away," he said quietly. "But you haunt me, sweetheart."
My heart didn't beat faster.
It screamed.
---
He didn't ask to come in.
He didn't have to.
My silence was permission.
My breath was an invitation.
We stood there for what felt like forever, him watching me like I was his favorite sin and his biggest regret.
"You still want me?" he asked.
"I don't know," I whispered.
"I want peace."
His laugh was broken.
Like the word peace didn't exist in our vocabulary.
"I can't give you peace," he said. "But I can give you everything else."
---
When he kissed me, it wasn't gentle.
It was war.
Teeth.
Tongue.
The kind of kiss that said I missed you and I hate that I did.
My back hit the wall.
His hands hit my skin.
And everything I swore I'd protect fell to the floor with my restraint.
This wasn't love.
It was destruction disguised as comfort.
But God… did it feel like home.
---
After, we laid tangled in silence.
His fingers tracing the lines of my spine like they were secrets only he was allowed to learn.
"I'm bad for you," he murmured.
"I know."
"I'll break you."
"You already did."
He didn't flinch.
He just pulled me closer and whispered,
"Then let me be the one to put you back together."
---