📚 Title: Lonely Enough to Stay

He told himself he wouldn’t knock on her door again.
The last time should have been the last time — the way her perfume clung to his clothes long after he’d left, the way her nails left marks on his back he had to hide under cheap shirts and cheaper excuses.

But tonight, loneliness pressed heavier than pride.
So he found himself in front of her door again, fist hovering, breath fogging in the cold hallway air. He knew she was awake — she always waited for him, even when she pretended she didn’t care if he came or didn’t.

When she opened the door, her eyes told him everything: she’d sworn she’d block his number, swear him off like a bad habit she could kick. But here they were — her in a loose tee that didn’t hide much, him in the same jeans he’d worn three nights straight.

“Didn’t think you’d come back,” she murmured. Her voice was soft, but her fingers were rough when she grabbed his wrist and pulled him inside.

She didn’t kiss him at first. She just stood there, staring — like she was memorizing all the parts of him she knew would leave again. His eyes, rimmed red with secrets. His mouth, the lies it told her and the truths it whispered when she was under him, begging for more.

He tried to say something, but she pressed her mouth to his so hard their teeth knocked. It wasn’t sweet — it was a kiss made of apology and anger and hunger. Her hands tugged his shirt over his head, fingers cold against the heat of his chest.

They stumbled back to her bed — unmade, sheets a mess like they never really cooled from the last time. She shoved him down, climbed over him, knees pressed into his ribs. When she sank down onto him, slow, she gasped like she’d been holding her breath for days.

They didn’t talk. Didn’t pretend it was love. Didn’t pretend it was more than two lonely bodies trying to feel something that wouldn’t sting in the morning.

When he came, he buried his face in her neck, the scent of her hair choking him with memories he wished he could keep. She ran her fingers through his hair, kissed his temple like she forgave him for leaving — even though they both knew he would.

After, he pulled on his jeans, half hoping she’d ask him to stay. She didn’t. He didn’t ask to stay either.

But when the door clicked shut behind him, he almost wished he had.

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