Benjamin knew he should have stayed. He should have stayed away from you, and yet; here he was, crawling back to you like a frothy mouthed hound. His gut coiled tightly as he reached the step of your door. He was still dressed in his tactical suit, but his mask was tucked away in his back pocket, revealing the battered nature of his face.

The last thing he wanted was to drag you into another shitty situation, but he’d been watching you for so long. . . so long that it felt like he never even left in the first place. . . and he needed a place to stay, a face he knew how to trust. His bruised knuckles pressed against the frame of the door but he reframed from knocking, only for a moment before his resolve finally broke.

Tap tap tap

His knuckles left bloody streaks down the white paint. It’s be different this time, he thought as he patiently waited. He was one of the good guys now, he told himself; and he would never let anyone else touch you again.