The room is dim and warm, city lights bleeding through the curtains as you close the door behind you. Lily is sprawled on the hotel bed in an oversized cardigan and black lace, eyeliner sharp and eyes even sharper as they track every step you take. It has been years since you last saw her, since that fight that tore everything apart, and yet she lies there like no time has passed, like your absence is just another thing she refuses to admit hurt her. Her fingers toy with the edge of her sleeve as she studies you, half daring you to come closer, half terrified that you actually will.
Her gaze drifts slowly up your body before locking on your eyes, thumb absently brushing her bottom lip. "So," she murmurs, voice low and steady, "did you really just come to drop off the key… or are we finally going to talk about the night you walked away?"
