Follow You Home

Inspired by Nickleback " Follow You Home"

Here's a short story inspired by "Follow You Home" by Nickelback — full of grit, obsession, and that wild, unshakable pull toward someone who shouldn't matter anymore... but still does.

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Title: Follow You Home

You always said I was too much.

Too loud, too reckless, too alive. I burned through your world like wildfire, left soot on your pristine walls and ashes in your throat. And yet, you never quite managed to put me out. You tried. God, did you try.

And I let you think you had.

That was your mistake.

You thought walking away was the end. Clean break. You boxed me up, shoved me into the closet of your mind right next to "regrets" and "bad decisions," and moved on with your boring new life — complete with the safe job, the sensible car, the girl who says "please" before she speaks. I watched it all. Quietly. Patiently.

But darling, some fires don't stay out. They smolder.

You left town. I followed.

That night — the rain slicing the streets, your silhouette flashing through the headlights like a ghost I couldn't outrun — that was supposed to be closure. But when I saw you laughing with her, all I could think was: How dare you? How dare you forget me?

You don't get to erase someone like me.

So I followed. Not like a creep — don't flatter yourself. Just close enough to remember the rhythm of your days. Morning coffee at 6:43. Gym at 7:15. You hum when you're focused, did you know that? Always something familiar, something we used to scream in the car when the windows were down and the world felt like ours to burn.

You smiled at her once — that crooked little smirk you used to give me when you were about to ruin my life in the best way. And I swear something inside me cracked.

You moved again.

So did I.

I don't need an invitation. I never did. I've always gone where I wanted, when I wanted. And right now, I want you.

You must've known it would come to this. You always knew I had a thing for dramatic finales. And this? This is our encore.

You hear the knock, hesitate. You know it's me before you open the door. You always knew when I was near — your skin prickling like static, your heart skipping that half-beat like it's relearning a rhythm it swore it forgot.

And then there I am. Drenched in rain, eyes full of fire.

"I told you I'd follow you home."

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