When the knock comes, I don't think twice before opening the door.
For what it's worth, you should never open a door without checking who it is, even when you know who's coming.
Because sometimes it isn't who you think it is.
His golden hair is dulled with dust. Or sweat. Or… both? It hangs limply around a face both familiar and not, with heavy shadows beneath his eyes and a grim twist to his lips. His confident, glowing, heroic aura is gone like it never existed, and now Rafe looks…
Honestly, he looks like he belongs in a dark alley somewhere with needle marks on his arms, okay? The whole drug-addled cliche you see on TV.
And his blue eyes are no longer clear and beautiful, but reddened around the edges and burning with something I've never seen before. If I had to guess, he's… angry? But his body language says otherwise.
"Grace." He sighs out my name like I'm a lost child finally found.
