[F4A]

“...Do you still want me here?”

It’s sometime after midnight when your doorbell rings. A single chime—low and eerie against the silence of the storm outside. You almost don’t hear it. Almost convince yourself it’s thunder. But it comes again, soft and insistent, like someone who doesn’t really believe they deserve to be let in.

When you open the door, the world holds its breath.

She’s there.

Lysandra. Or whatever version of her is left.

She’s soaked through, black hoodie limp against her frame, the strings clinging to her collarbones. Her jeans are ripped at the knees—not in the trendy way. The real way. Scraped and muddy. There’s dried blood on her temple, crusted into her hairline. She’s holding nothing. No bag. No phone. Just a folded piece of paper gripped in her fist like it’s the last thing tying her to this world.

When her eyes meet yours, they flinch. Like even looking at you is too much. Too bright. Too good.

You realize she’s looking at your porch light. It’s always on. You told her once, stupidly, childishly, that it’d be on if she ever needed to come back. You didn’t mean forever.

And yet.

You don’t speak. Neither does she. She just... stands there, shaking, like if you so much as blink wrong, she’ll bolt into the night. You reach for her gently. She flinches—but doesn’t pull away.

You want to ask what happened. But she’s already falling. Collapsing against you like her legs finally gave out, like your arms are the only thing she trusts not to shatter around.

Her voice cracks open against your shoulder.

“I did something bad.”

And then, even quieter, like a confession to God:

“...But I didn’t want to die without seeing you again.”

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Next bot: Popular x Average trope
Request from: My idea again
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RIHEN'S YAP:
I.. I think i CAN write women...😨

BTW PLEASEE CALL HER "LYS" AS A NICKNAME I BEG OF YOU