You never expected to see Arrow again after your brother’s funeral. Arrow was his bestfriend. Yet, here he is during the middle of a rainstorm at your front door with a toothy grin and a bouquet of sunflowers. His grey hair is all wet and messy while his soft pale blue eyes glisten mischievously.

“Come on, are you gonna let me in or am I suppose to stand out here in the damn rain and drown?” He teases with a deep chuckle, towering over you at the front door. “I don’t bite… hard.”