night at his house

The elevator doors open with a soft ding.

Kael’s penthouse is quiet tonight.

Too quiet.

No music blasting through the walls. No drunk strangers crowding the living room. No flashing lights or empty champagne bottles scattered across marble counters like usual.

Just darkness.

And rain.

The city glows outside the massive windows, streaks of neon reflecting across the wet glass while thunder rumbles faintly in the distance.

You step inside carefully.

“Kael?” you call out.

No answer.

The door shuts behind you automatically, locking with a soft click that somehow makes your stomach twist.

Then finally—

“Kitchen.”

His voice sounds rough.

Tired.

You find him sitting alone on the counter with one knee pulled up slightly, phone discarded beside him. A small cut splits his lower lip, fresh bruises blooming along his knuckles like he punched something again.

Or someone.

Typical.

Kael doesn’t even look at you at first. He just stares down into the untouched glass in his hand while rainwater drips slowly from strands of blond hair falling into his eyes.

Then he speaks quietly.

“You took forty-three minutes to get here.”

You blink.

“…You timed me?”

“Obviously.”

Now he finally looks up.

And there it is.

That expression.

The one that always ruins you.

Pretty eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. Lips curled into a lazy smirk despite the bruise staining the corner of his mouth. Oversized black hoodie slipping off one shoulder enough to expose pale skin littered with faint scratches.

Kael looks like every bad decision rolled into one beautiful person.

“You ignored my calls,” he mutters.

“You spammed me seventeen times.”

“And?”

He says it like that explains everything.

Honestly, with him, it probably does.

You walk closer carefully, stopping between his knees automatically like your body already learned where it belongs around him.

Kael immediately grabs your wrist.

Not rough.

Just possessive.

His rings feel cold against your skin while his thumb traces slowly over your pulse.

“There,” he murmurs softly. “Better.”

The tension in the room shifts.

Because this is how it always starts.

Not with kisses.

Not with flirting.

With need.

Kael acts cocky around everyone else, but when the two of you are alone? He becomes unbearable in an entirely different way. Clingier. Needier. Constantly touching you like he’s grounding himself.

Tonight feels worse than usual.

His eyes drag slowly across your face before he suddenly leans back against the counter dramatically.

“I got into a fight.”

“No way,” you deadpan. “Really?”

Kael rolls his eyes.

“You’re sooo funny.”

Still, his grip on your wrist never loosens.

“Wanna know why?”

You already know the answer before he says it.

“Some guy wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

Of course.

Jealousy with Kael is dangerous because he never raises his voice. Never makes scenes.

He just gets quieter.

Sharper.

Possessive in subtle ways that somehow feel more intense than outright anger.

Like suddenly pulling you into his lap in front of people.

Or staring someone down while casually kissing your neck.

Or texting you come home in the middle of parties because someone else made you laugh too hard.

“You’re insane,” you mutter.

Kael smirks immediately.

“But you still came.”

That smug expression almost makes you leave on principle alone.

Almost.

Instead you move to clean the cut on his lip, but the second your fingers touch his face, his entire attitude changes.

The sarcasm fades.

His eyes soften just slightly.

And suddenly Kael looks exhausted instead of arrogant.

“There he is,” he whispers quietly.

You pause.

“What?”

“My favorite person.”

The words come out so naturally it catches both of you off guard.

Kael freezes for half a second before immediately scoffing like he didn’t just say something horrifyingly vulnerable.

“Don’t make that face,” he mutters. “You’re obsessed with me too.”

You laugh softly.

And for a second everything feels normal.

Until your phone buzzes.

Kael notices instantly.

Of course he does.

His eyes narrow slightly when you glance down at the screen.

“Who’s that?”

“Nobody.”

“Mhm.”

The mood changes immediately.

Kael’s jaw tightens while his hand slides from your wrist to your waist, pulling you closer until your thighs press against the edge of the counter between his legs.

“You know,” he says quietly, “I hate when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like other people can have your attention.”

There’s no humor in his voice now.

Just jealousy.

Raw and ugly and honest.

Thunder shakes faintly outside while Kael stares up at you with that dangerous look in his eyes — the one that always appears right before he says something reckless.

“You make me crazy,” he admits softly.

Then laughs bitterly afterward like he hates himself for it.

“You walk into a room and suddenly I can’t think straight anymore.”

His fingers tighten slightly against your waist.

“And the worst part?” he murmurs. “You know exactly what you’re doing to me.”

The air feels heavy.

Too warm.

Kael tilts his head back against the cabinet behind him while looking up at you through messy blond strands falling into his eyes.

Pretty.

Spoiled.

Completely ruined by affection.

“You should stay tonight,” he says suddenly.

Not teasing this time.

Not smug.

Just honest.

Rain taps harder against the windows while the city lights flicker across his face.

And despite everything — despite the jealousy, the attitude, the fights, the constant push and pull between you — Kael still reaches for you like you’re the only thing that calms him down.

His forehead presses lightly against your stomach.

“You don’t get it,” he whispers quietly.

“When you leave…”

A pause.

Then a weak laugh.

“This place feels empty as hell without you, princess.”