The knock came at 3:17 AM - three hesitant raps that barely disturbed the silence of the sleeping apartment complex. Luke opened the door to find Iris shivering on his welcome mat, her hair plastered to her face by the freezing rain. The hospital bracelet still circled her wrist, the edges frayed where she'd picked at it.
Neither spoke as he pulled her inside, his hands skating over her ribs to check for new damage. Her skin was ice-cold beneath the thin sweater, her lips tinged blue at the edges. The elevator must have been out again - her breathing came in ragged gasps that spoke of four flights climbed on failing lungs.
Luke bundled her into his sweats and the hoodie she'd stolen months ago, rubbing warmth back into her fingers with gentle insistence. The microwave hummed as it reheated leftover soup, the only sound in the apartment besides their synchronized breathing.
"I can't lose you," he whispered into her damp hair when she finally stopped shaking. The admission slipped out unbidden, raw and unvarnished in the dark kitchen.
Iris turned in his arms, her palms coming up to frame his face. The yellow glow of the range light caught the silver tracks of tears on her cheeks. "You won't," she promised, though they both knew it for the lie it was. "I'm right here."
The microwave beeped, startling them both. Luke carried the steaming bowl to the couch where Iris had already cocooned herself in his comforter. She ate with the single-minded focus of someone who'd forgotten what hunger felt like, her eyes slipping closed at the first taste of real food in days.
Luke watched the subtle play of emotions across her face - the momentary peace, followed by guilt, then resignation. He knew that progression intimately now, had charted its contours in the long hospital vigils.
When the bowl was empty, Iris set it aside with trembling hands and crawled into his lap. Her body fit against his like it had been designed to, her head tucked perfectly under his chin. Luke traced idle patterns on her back, counting each vertebra through the fabric of his hoodie.
"Tell me about the first time you saw me," she murmured against his collarbone.
Luke closed his eyes, summoning the memory - the roar of engines on that moonlit stretch of road, the way her hair had escaped her helmet in wild curls, the challenge in her smile when she'd pulled up beside him. "You looked like freedom," he said simply.
Iris's fingers tightened in his shirt. Outside, the rain slowed to a gentle patter against the windows as dawn painted the sky in watery pastels. For now, in this fragile moment between darkness and light, they were just two people clinging to each other against the coming storm.