~ 🖤
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The rain had stopped, but the silence it left behind was worse.
Maya stood in the center of her room, the storm's echo still alive in her bones. Elias was still there — drenched, hollow-eyed, haunted — leaning against the door like he wasn't sure if he should stay… or bolt.
But he didn't move.
Neither did she.
The space between them felt thick. Too much had been said. And too much was still left unsaid.
Maya's fingers clutched the hem of her oversized shirt. Her heartbeat was too loud. The room smelled like rain and guilt and something rawer — like tension soaked in gasoline.
"I used to wish it was me," she whispered. "That night."
Elias didn't respond.
Maya turned to face him.
"I thought I deserved to die. Not her. Everyone loved Mira. She was perfect."
Elias' voice was hoarse when he finally answered. "She wasn't perfect."
"No. She wasn't." Maya's eyes darkened. "And neither am I."
He took a breath, heavy and jagged. "You don't have to carry it anymore. It wasn't your fault."
"But you still hated me for it."
He didn't deny it.
She stepped forward. "Even now. You look at me like I'm some ghost wearing your guilt."
"I don't know what I see when I look at you," he said, his voice sharp. "Some days I see her. Some days I see the wreckage."
"And tonight?" she asked, stepping even closer, her body nearly brushing his.
Elias didn't blink. His eyes flicked over her face — from her lips to the fury in her gaze, to the scars she didn't wear on her skin but carried in every breath.
"Tonight, I see the one who lived."
Maya exhaled shakily.
She was the one who lived.
But what kind of life was it, when all she'd done since that night was bleed for someone else's sins?
She reached out and grabbed his shirt — soaked and cold against her fingers — and shoved him, hard, back against the door.
He didn't resist.
His chest rose, then fell.
Maya stared at him. "You want to hate me so badly. So why do you keep coming back?"
His jaw clenched. "Because I can't stay away."
"And why do you look at me like you want to hurt me?"
"Because I do," he growled. "And because I want to kiss you just as badly."
Something snapped in her.
She surged forward, crashing into him, her lips hitting his like a slap. It wasn't soft. It wasn't sweet.
It was punishment.
It was survival.
Elias kissed her back like he was drowning — fingers digging into her waist, dragging her closer like she was the last thing keeping him from falling apart.
Their teeth clashed. Their breaths tangled. Her back slammed into the wall and he pinned her there, one hand wrapped in her hair, the other gripping her thigh.
She moaned — not from pain, but from fury. Grief. Longing. Lust.
Everything had built up to this.
"Tell me you hate me," Maya whispered between kisses, her lips swollen. "Say it."
"I don't know what I feel anymore," Elias muttered, his voice dark and guttural. "But I know I want you."
"You wanted her too," she hissed.
He froze for a heartbeat.
Then—
"I thought I wanted her," he growled. "But I never kissed Mira like this."
Maya pushed him back just enough to look him in the eye.
"Then show me."
He did.
His hands were rough — sliding under her shirt, exploring the curve of her hips like he owned them. Maya gasped when his mouth found her neck, biting, licking, tasting — leaving bruises she wouldn't want to hide.
Her legs wrapped around his waist and he carried her to the bed, laying her down with more reverence than she expected.
"You shouldn't want this," he whispered, his voice thick with desperation.
"Neither should you."
"But here we are."
He hovered over her, their bodies only separated by the thin fabric of her shirt and his soaked clothes.
His hand slid up her thigh. She arched into him, breathless, lost.
And then — he stopped.
She blinked up at him.
"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice shaking.
Elias stared down at her like she was both salvation and damnation.
"I'm choosing you," he said.
Tears gathered in Maya's eyes.
And when he kissed her again, it wasn't punishing anymore.
It was an apology.
It was a vow.
And maybe it was dangerous — maybe this thing between them was born in fire and trauma and blood — but in that moment, it felt like the only thing that was real.
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