The cold Parisian night wrapped the city in a shroud of mist, casting a dreamlike haze over the cobblestone streets. The golden glow of streetlamps shimmered against the rain-slick pavement, but none of it held Lara Croft's attention. She stood on the balcony of her apartment in Montmartre, a half-empty glass of wine in her hand, her gaze distant as she watched the Eiffel Tower glitter in the distance.
She breathed in the crisp night air, the faint scent of rain and Parisian bakeries mingling, but even that comfort was fleeting. Her heart was heavy, weighed down by too many memories—some sharp with pain, others bittersweet. Tonight, she couldn't decide which lingered more.
A faint knock on the door shattered her reverie. Her heart skipped, the sound pulling her back to the present. Lara placed her glass down carefully, her every move measured. Few people dared to show up at her door unannounced, and for good reason.
She approached the door, her hand brushing over the concealed weapon on the console. Slowly, she opened it, and the sight before her made her breath catch.
"Kurtis."
There he was, leaning casually against the doorframe, his hair damp from the rain and his leather jacket glistening with water. The weight of the world etched lines into his face, but his blue eyes held that familiar spark, one that always unsettled and anchored her in equal measure.
"Croft." His voice was steady, tinged with that rough charm that had always disarmed her, though she'd never admit it aloud.
"You're late," she murmured, her words softer than she intended.
He smirked, the kind of smirk that could both infuriate and warm her. "You didn't give me a deadline."
She stepped aside, allowing him to enter. As he brushed past her, the faint scent of leather and rain filled her senses, stirring emotions she'd buried deep.
The apartment was quiet, save for the soft hum of music playing in the background. She'd forgotten the playlist was still on, but when the familiar chords of I Don't Wanna Wait began to play, her chest tightened.
Kurtis glanced around, his sharp eyes taking in the minimalistic yet elegant decor. He turned back to her, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. "This song... fitting, don't you think?"
Lara crossed her arms, leaning against the wall to keep distance between them. "We've never been good at timing."
He nodded, stepping closer, his boots heavy on the wooden floor. "No. We haven't. But I'm starting to think timing's overrated."
His words hung in the air, heavier than she expected. She opened her mouth to respond, but the look in his eyes stopped her. It wasn't just his usual confidence—it was raw, unguarded.
"We've spent so much time chasing everything else," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "Enemies. Artifacts. Shadows of the past. Always waiting for the right moment, for the chaos to settle. But it never does, does it?"
Her throat tightened. He was right, and she hated how much it hurt to hear him say it aloud. She looked away, her fingers gripping her arms as though holding herself together.
"Lara," he said softly, stepping closer. His voice pulled her back, like an anchor in a storm. "I don't wanna wait anymore."
Her gaze snapped to his, the weight of his words sinking in. She searched his face, looking for hesitation, for doubt, but there was none. Just him.
"You think it's that simple?" She asked, her voice trembling with emotions she couldn't suppress.
"It's not simple," he admitted. "It's messy. It's complicated. It's us. But I'll take that over waiting forever."
The music swelled, the lyrics echoing every unsaid word between them. I don't want to wait...
Lara felt her walls crumble—the ones she'd spent years building to protect herself from heartbreak and vulnerability. She stepped closer, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want to wait either."
Kurtis reached out, his hand brushing against hers before taking it fully. His touch was warm, steady, and grounding. Slowly, he raised her hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles. The gesture was simple, yet it broke something inside her.
Her breath hitched as he leaned down, his forehead resting against hers. His voice was a murmur against her skin. "For once, let's stop running."
And then his lips met hers.
It wasn't rushed or frantic, but deep and searching, as if making up for every moment they'd let slip away. Her hands found his jacket, pulling him closer, and the rain outside faded into a distant hum. All that mattered was him—the way his touch ignited something she thought she'd lost.
When they finally broke apart, their breaths mingling in the stillness, Kurtis smiled—a real, unguarded smile that made her chest ache.
"So, Croft," he said, his voice teasing but soft. "What now?"
She laughed lightly, the sound tinged with relief and hope. "I guess we stop waiting and see where this takes us."
The night stretched on, but for once, neither of them cared about what came next. For the first time in years, they had found their way back to each other. And they weren't about to let go.