I can't face her, but her reflection in the window haunts me—a silhouette of salvation I don't deserve.

"I need you to come back," she whispers, words threading through my madness.

"I'm not going back to that fucking house."

"No." Her presence warms my back. "I need you to come back to me, Nate."

I shut my eyes, her words hitting like a physical force. "I can't beat this fucking devil in my head, Nora," I confess, barely above a whisper. "I can't⁠⁠—"

"I know."

"I'm no good for you."

"I know."

Her acceptance unravels me.

"Then why won't you just walk away?" My voice cracks as I turn to face her, terrified of what I'll see. But her eyes—a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of green that words can't capture—hold only warmth.

"Because I know you believe those things, Nate," she says softly. "But I don't."

She closes the distance between us, her touch igniting every nerve ending when her hand finds my arm. My pulse thunders, electricity crackling beneath my skin where we connect.

"I'm here," she murmurs, steady as a heartbeat. "I just need you to come back and be here with me too. Can you do that?"

"Nora, I⁠⁠—"

"You know what I think the devil is?" she asks, surprising me.

"What?"

Her hand cups my face, her eyes pierce through my walls, seeing straight to the broken pieces I try to hide.

"I think he's just a fallen angel in pain," she whispers. "A lost boy trying to find his place in the world. His home."

The universe shifts in that moment, reality bending around her words. I realize then I would love her in every lifetime—my atoms could scatter across galaxies, and they'd still spell her name in stardust. I'd always searched for someone to look at my darkness and still choose to stay. Here she stands, seeing all of me and refusing to look away.

"Nora…" Her name catches in my throat, heavy with so many unspoken truths.

"I told you, you don't have to do this alone anymore." Our bodies press together, gravity drawing us closer. "I got you," she murmurs, cradling my face. "Every part of you."

I lean in, expecting her retreat. "I'm not strong enough to walk away right now, so if you tell me to leave, then I'll go. But if you don't, then I won't be sorry for what I'm about to do next."

Her answer comes in the form of a kiss—soft at first, then igniting.

"Stay," she breathes against my mouth.

She's my worst fucking addiction.