a perfect contradiction • lrh

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The city was quieter now. Luke stood in the doorway of his apartment, the air stale with the absence of her. He’d barely slept, barely eaten, barely breathed since she left.

Her locket stayed tucked into his palm like a heartbeat. Every time he opened it, he swore he could still smell her perfume in the dried flowers, still hear her laugh in the photo. It made him ache. And that ache was finally louder than his fear.

He looked around the apartment once more- her mug still by the sink, her bobby pin still on his dresser and without thinking twice, he grabbed his backpack, shoved in a few essentials, handed in his keys, and got on the next flight to San Francisco.

It wasn’t rational. It wasn’t planned. But neither was she. And she was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

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Her apartment building was quiet when he arrived. His legs ached, his throat was dry, and his heart was hammering like it might crack open from sheer hope and panic. He found the door Chase had scribbled on a scrap of paper, and knocked.

No answer.

He knocked again, this time firmer. Please be in. Please.

When the door finally creaked open, she stood there in a hoodie and slippers, her scarred wrist clutching a mug of tea. Her hair was damp from a shower, and her eyes widened the moment they saw him. Time stopped.

“I can’t let you go again,” Luke said breathlessly, his chest heaving from the rush upstairs. “I can’t have another day of my life where you’re not the center of it.”

She stared, wide-eyed, her lip trembling.

“I have loved you,” he continued, stepping forward, voice shaking, “since the minute I met you. Through every argument, every silence, every bruise and every smile. I am crazy for you, Eleanor. I’m done letting the past control our future.”

Tears welled in her eyes.

“We’ve both been through hell. And I’m not saying we’re perfect, or that it’s going to be easy. But I know this—we deserve goodness. We deserve peace. We deserve love. And I want to fight for that. For you. For us.”

She let the tears fall freely then, her mug set down blindly on the hallway shelf as she closed the distance between them. Her hands, trembling and scarred, reached for his face, and without a word more, she kissed him.

Soft. Slow. Like a promise.

When they pulled away, her voice cracked but held strong.
“I love you too. I always have. And I’m tired of running.”

He rested his forehead against hers, and they stood there for a long time, wrapped up in the kind of silence that finally felt like peace.

Outside, the sky above San Francisco was wide and open, stars flickering through the misty night like a whispered reminder—some love is meant to find its way back.

And theirs just did.