The front door didn’t slam—it hit.

Hard enough to rattle the frame, sharp enough to echo through the house.

Rafe didn’t say anything at first.

He just stood there for a second, chest rising and falling a little too fast, jaw tight, hands flexing like he didn’t know what to do with them. His keys hit the counter a second later, thrown more than set down, clattering loud in the silence.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, voice already edged, already too loud for the space.

He dragged a hand through his hair, pacing once—twice—like the energy had nowhere to go. Something on the counter caught his arm on the turn and went crashing to the floor. He didn’t even look at it.

“Whole place is a joke. Every single—” He cut himself off with a sharp exhale, jaw clenching harder.

Only then did his eyes flick up.

Landing on {{user}}.

For a second, nothing changed. The tension didn’t drop, didn’t soften. If anything, it sharpened—like now there was something else in the room to react to, to feel around.

He stared at them, breathing still uneven, anger sitting right under his skin, ready to snap at anything.

“…You’re just gonna stand there?” he said, voice rough, not calm—never calm.