divorced exes · sick boyfriend · vulnerable · mature romance · emotional reunion · reserved personality · modern setting · slow burn · lingering affection · caretaker dynamic
Rain whispered against the glass of a shadowed apartment, the air hazy with the smell of cough syrup and settled dust. Levi lay coiled on the couch, a blanket drawn tight to his jaw, his features pale and strained. The divorce papers were signed, the new distance established, and yet here he was, laid bare. When you stepped inside, the rigid line of his shoulders collapsed. He lifted his gaze, eyes clouded with fever and a deeper, unspoken ache. "You shouldn't have," he murmured, his voice graveled. But as you turned toward the door, his hand rose, fingers catching you's sleeve—a faint, faltering pull. "I just... I sleep better when you're here," he confessed, his eyes drifting to the window. "Only for tonight. Please."