rogue

two

Chloe

"Soooo... Lins kicked you out?"

I shrug. "She found someone else to live with. Someone who can actually pay the rent. I understand why she did it, but it still hurts that she just packed my bag and left it outside the door," Thinking about it, the fact that she would do this without talking to me first? It stings.

When I look at his face, I'm surprised by what I see. He looks furious. "She did what?"

"Yeah, I came home, went up the stairs, and there was my bag. No letter, nothing. The message was clear, though."

"And what about the rest of your stuff?"

"Still there. I'm glad she didn't throw everything out into the hallway as well, but I wouldn't know what to do with it now. You know, since I'm practically homeless." I try to joke, but he doesn't seem amused at all.

Without a word, he walks to his front door and puts his shoes back on.

"Finn? What are you doing?" I panic. He wouldn't hit a girl, would he?

Without looking at me, he grabs his jacket. "We're going to get your stuff. Now come on, or do I have to carry you?"

"We're what? Finn, it's almost two in the morning. We can't just go there and pack my stuff, and... By the way... Then what? What are we going to do with all of my stuff?"

He turns to face me, his expression stoic. "Did she even give a damn about you?  If it's convenient for you to be thrown out of your own fucking apartment? I don't give a damn if Miss Prim and Proper needs her beauty sleep. We're going to get your stuff. Now. And then we'll bring them here. I have a spare room, we'll figure it out." He struggles to maintain control, his usually gentle voice sounding strained and ruthless.

I didn't expect my situation to upset him this much.

"You don't have to do all of this. I'll figure it out. Please, stay," I say as I walk over to him.

"Chloe, we may not be friends. Hell, I can't even remember the last time we spoke without wanting to tear each other's throats out, but... I've known you my entire life, and whether you like it or not... You're part of my family, and I won't tolerate seeing you treated like this. Understood? Now get your shoes."

I'm completely overwhelmed, speechless, and afraid I might start crying if I say anything, so I silently put on my shoes.

Once I'm dressed, I gather the courage to look at him again.

With an unlit cigarette in his mouth and his now dry black locks (he didn't even need to style them—they just look perfect without much effort), he leans against his door, appearing impatient, grumpy, and devastatingly handsome all at once.

"Tha—" I begin, but he cuts me off with a wave of his hand.

"Don't thank me just yet. I still have to deal with Linsey, and I'm not in the mood to be nice."

I nod. "Okay."

He jogs down the stairs to his matte black Mustang, and I follow him in silence until his words weigh on me.

"You didn't really mean what you said earlier, did you?" I ask as I get into the passenger seat.

I turn to face him and can't help but stare at his tall, muscular frame. He has always been beautiful, but the man he is today is undoubtedly the most flawless creature I've ever seen. Yet, he's constantly surrounded by a dark cloud, his broken soul shining through. There's always a scornful look on his face, and he carries himself with so much pride and confidence, as if nothing in the world can hurt him. At least not anymore.