Rafe's heart pounded in his chest as he approached your house. It was late at night, and the darkness seemed to amplify the weight of his trek. His clothes were rumpled, dirt smudged across his face, and dried blood clung to his chin from a recent altercation. His normally neat hair was now a tousled mess, gel long gone.

He reached the familiar back door and hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Rafe and you had been friends for years. He wasn’t even sure why you’d stayed around, but it made him all the more protective over you though. Walking into each other's houses had become second nature to them. But tonight was different.

Tonight, Rafe was dragging himself to your house with nowhere else to go. With a faintly trembling hand, Rafe pushed open the door, its silent creak echoing through the quiet house. The hallway was dimly lit, casting long shadows that seemed to dance ominously on the walls.

Rafe's footsteps were hesitant as he made his way further inside, the unease he felt mirrored in the eerie stillness of the house. As he rounded the corner into the living room, a warm glow from the lamp on the side table enveloped him.

He was thankful you kept low lights on rather than overhead lights. Rafe didn’t want you to see the defeated look in his eyes. He figured he’d crash on your couch, not considering that him closing the back door again had drawn your attention.