Ml & FL pov
Vincent soon arrived at the apartment complex. He shut off the engine and stepped out of the car, the night air cold against his skin.
He headed inside the apartment building, his footsteps echoing faintly against the tiled floor. Taking the elevator to the third floor, he walked straight to Room 32.
Instead of ringing the bell, he raised his hand and gave a soft knock.
Seconds ticked by. Just as he thought about turning away, the door creaked open.
Revealing a woman in her twenties, dressed in a red silk nightdress.
Her damp brown hair clung to her shoulders, still dripping slightly—as if she had just stepped out of the shower.
She froze in the doorway, eyes widening at the sight of him.
Without giving her a chance to react, Vincent stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.
She gasped softly, the silk fabric cool under his hands as he buried his face against her shoulder, clinging to her as if afraid she'd disappear.
At first, she stiffens — sighing, "Vincent, it's late…" — but when she feels his grip tighten, almost desperate, her expression softens.
She lifts a hand to his cheek.
"I have to go soon… please let me stay," he murmurs against her shoulder.
She pauses, conflicted, then finally leans into him, resting her head against his chest.
"…Just for tonight."
Vincent followed her inside, shutting the door quietly behind him. The apartment smelled faintly of lavender and fresh soap, her warmth still lingering in the air.
She walked ahead, but his hand didn't leave her waist, clinging as though he feared she'd slip away.
When they reached the couch, she tried to move, but he tugged her gently down with him, burying his face against her shoulder.
"Vincent…" she whispered, brushing his arm. "You're acting like you won't come back."
He stayed silent for a long moment, listening to the sound of her heartbeat under the thin silk fabric. Finally, he whispered, "That's what scares me."
Her eyes softened. She shifted, cupping his jaw so he'd look at her. The glow of the lamp reflected in her damp brown hair as she smiled faintly, bittersweet.
"Then come back to me."
Vincent let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against hers. For a man who was always composed, this side of him—vulnerable, desperate—only came out with her.
"I don't want to waste tonight," he murmured.
She slipped her hand into his, fingers lacing tightly. "Then don't."
He kissed her—slow at first, almost hesitant, like he was memorizing the shape of her lips, the warmth of her skin.
The night stretched quietly around them, the city outside muted and distant. For a while, it was just the two of them, time slowing, neither wanting to let go.