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you’ve been avoiding the subway for months.

ever since matt, you take buses when you can, you walk even if it means your feet ache, you call overpriced rideshares just to spare yourself the way your chest caves in whenever you hear the screech of steel against steel. the subway used to be yours and his, something that belonged to both of you in a way no one else would understand. every late-night ride after a party, every early morning when you were barely awake and leaning on his shoulder, every in-between when the city blurred past and you laughed with him.

and then he left, or you left, or maybe you both broke apart at the same time and pretended it was someone else’s fault. tonight you don’t have a choice. the rain’s been pouring for hours, every street choked with traffic, and you’re tired, so tired, and the subway is the fastest way home. you almost don’t make it down the stairs, your chest tightens the second the humid station air hits you. but you force yourself forward. headphones in. head down. if you keep moving, maybe the memories won’t catch you.

but of course, they do.

you see him everywhere. in the man holding onto the same silver pole matt used to lean on with his fingers drumming. in the way the lights flicker above your head, reminding you of the time he pulled you into his chest during a blackout on the train. in the teenagers laughing in the corner, echoing the way he used to make you laugh so hard you cried.

you grip the metal bar tighter and stare at the dirty floor. don’t think about him. don’t—

“hey.”

the voice is low. too familiar. it slices through the hum of the train and burrows straight into your spine. you whip your head up and your stomach drops. he’s right there. matt. he looks the same and nothing like the same all at once. hair a little longer, curling at his temple. hoodie damp from the rain, a bag slung carelessly over his shoulder. he’s staring at you like he doesn’t know if he should smile or run, and you can’t breathe because you’ve spent months preparing for this moment and none of it matters. “you’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter, mostly to yourself, but his lips twitch.

“wasn’t expecting to see you here either.” your chest aches at the sound of his voice. rough, edged, but familiar in a way that makes your ribs hurt. “yeah, well. i wasn’t expecting to…ever see you.” the words are sharper than you mean them to be, but he flinches anyway.

you turn your head away, trying to focus on the blur of tunnels through the window, but he doesn’t move. he comes closer, gripping the pole across from you. you’re trapped in his orbit again, the air between you electric and too hot. “you still take the subway?” he asks, almost casual, but there’s a bite under it.

“not really,” you whisper. “not since…” you trail off, not giving him the satisfaction of hearing his own name tied to your ache. but he knows. of course he knows. for a minute, it’s just the screech of the tracks and the thud of your pulse. then he exhales, low and frustrated.

“why are you acting like i’m some ghost?”

that makes you laugh bitterly. “you are a ghost. you haunt everything, matt. every song, every street corner, every—” you choke on your words, blinking fast, because you refuse to cry here, in front of him, on this disgusting train. his jaw tightens, and his voice drops lower. “you think you’re not everywhere for me too?”

the silence that follows is unbearable. you’re pressed against opposite poles, yet it feels like you’re inches away, drowning in everything unsaid. “next stop,” the announcement crackles, and your heart races. the doors slide open and you’re moving before you know it, storming off the subway and onto the platform just to breathe, to escape. but of course, he follows. the station air is damp and heavy. you spin on your heel, glaring at him.

“stop following me.”

“stop running from me.”

“you don’t get to say that! you left, matt! you made it impossible for me to—” your voice cracks, anger melting into something rawer. “you don’t get to just show up and pretend like none of it happened.” he steps closer, eyes burning into yours. “i’m not pretending. i’ve been living with it every single day.”

“then why—” your throat closes. “why didn’t you fight for me?” the question hangs there, dangerous, trembling. matt swallows hard, his chest rising and falling. “because i thought you didn’t want me anymore.” the station feels too small, too loud, and you’re trembling with anger and longing and something you can’t push down anymore.

and then his hand is on your jaw, rough and desperate, and he kisses you. it’s messy, furious, full of months of silence and hurt. your lips crash against his like you’re trying to kill him and save him at the same time. you shove at his chest but you’re pulling him closer, and he groans into your mouth like he’s been starved.

when he pulls back, you’re both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. “come with me,” he murmurs, not even a question. you know you should say no. you should walk away, finally rip yourself free. but you don’t, of course you don’t. you can’t.

your body betrays you, and you follow him out of the station, up into the rain, down streets you remember, the walk is only a couple minutes, until you enter his apartment complex, it feels like you blink, and suddenly you’re standing in front of his apartment door.

the second it shuts behind you, he’s on you again. hands in your hair, mouth hot and wet against yours. you stumble backwards, hitting the wall, gasping his name. “fuck, i missed you,” he groans, lips trailing down your neck. you’re clawing at his hoodie, yanking it over his head, desperate to feel him again. his skin is warm, familiar, and your chest aches with every touch.

he pushes you toward the bedroom, shedding clothes on the way, and by the time you fall back on his sheets, you’re already undone. his mouth is everywhere. your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, and when his hand slides under your waistband, you gasp, arching into him.

“still know how to make you fall apart,” he whispers against your skin, smug but reverent, like he’s worshipping and taunting at once. “shut up,” you hiss, but your voice breaks when he moves your panties to the side and slides his fingers inside you, curling just right, just the way he used to. and you bite your lip to keep from moaning his name too loud.

he smirks, kissing you again, sliding his tongue in your mouth, swallowing your sounds. you grab at him blindly, pulling him closer, needing more. “matt, please—” he groans at the sound, dragging his cock against your thigh, stroking himself a few times, he’s hard and aching. “fuck, you don’t even know what you do to me.”

the desperation between you is unbearable as he lines himself up to your entrance, and when he finally slides inside of you, a sensation you remember all too well, it’s like coming home and being torn apart all at once. you cling to him, nails digging into his back, and he buries his face in your neck, groaning your name like a prayer. “oh—oh fuck—yes matt—“ you moan.

every thrust inside you is messy, frantic, like you’re trying to erase the months apart, rewrite history with sweat and gasps. you kiss him through it, bite his lip, cry against his mouth, and he whispers over and over, “i missed you, i missed you, i missed you.”

your orgasm triggers his own. you’re left trembling, and he follows with a low, broken moan and sigh of your name, collapsing against you. the room is quiet except for your ragged breaths. and suddenly the weight of it all crashes back.

you’re lying in his bed, your bodies tangled, his hand still gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll vanish. you should get up. you should leave. but you don’t. god, of course you fucking don’t.

instead you stare at the ceiling, tears burning in your eyes, and whisper, “this doesn’t fix anything.” matt presses a kiss to your temple, voice rough. “i know. but it’s a start.” you sigh deeply. he’s got a way of making you fall apart for him, come back to him. all because of the subway that keeps bringing you both back together.

© delilahsturniolo

💌: SHE GOT AWAYYYYY!!!!!!!