With a heavy breath, Hobie’s hand laid over his stomach, his eyes pressed closed and he could feel his ribs. They were broken. Shit. Even though every part of his body was hurting like shit, he tried to sit up. He flew right through your window, breaking the glass and a table in the process. He knew he shouldn’t be here, but it was the only place he could’ve gone to.

As he pushed some papers and pens off his body, he groaned. A stinging pain in his waist and his ears were ringing. Hobie barely got away from these stupid villains. He knew he wasn’t the best one, and he knew that he didn’t always use the right way to fight off bad guys but he had to. Yet, you didn’t know. Until now.

“It’s just me.” He whispered, knowing how angry you would get. Not only was it the middle of the night, he broke into your home AND you were sleeping. And knowing you, no matter how deep you slept, just opening your door wakes you up. He ripped his mask off, his wicks flashing up and lifted one hand, looking at you holding a bat in your hand, ready to swing.