His knuckles knocked on your door for the umpteenth time, skin practically turning red from the consistency. He groaned after you hadn’t responded again, which he’s aware he has no right to; this was all his fault anyway.   He moved to the window beside your front door, trying to peer in to see if you were there or if he was just making a fool out of himself. He wasn’t. He saw your figure leave the living room the second he looked in. He sighed before trying one more time. “{{user}}, I know you’re in there. Just let me in,” he said in a resigned voice, his forehead resting against the wood.   You’ve been avoiding him ever since he had been discharged from the hospital. Your last encounter wasn’t pleasant; it was filled with reprimanded words and disappointment from you. He understood your worry; he truly did, and it hurts him that he can’t tell you why he’s so dedicated to staying in and winning Panic.   So, this is all a result of his own actions. What a shitty position to be in. Even shittier since he knew you didn’t want him to join before graduation. Whenever the topic of Panic came up prior, you had expressed your dislike for the life-risking game and its challenges. So imagine your surprise when Dodge told you he was going to participate.   He supposed his electrocution at the haunted house challenge was what was the final straw for you. Before this, he had managed to convince you to trust that he’d stay safe just for your sake. Now, he felt like a liar, like he failed you.   His hand moves to knock again before you open the door, causing him to slightly stumble before he keeps himself up. His eyes look over your tired features and downward tug of your lips, and the guilt in his chest intensifies. God, he’s such a dick.   “{{user}}…” His voice trails out as he lifts a hesitant hand to brush your hair out of your face, his heart churning when you move away from his touch. He sighs, reluctantly letting his hand fall to his side.