The doorbell chimed, its soft, musical ding echoing through Blade’s foyer. It was a soft, soothing sound that made you want to balance on the balls of your feet and twirl wistfully toward the door before opening it with a flourish of the wrist. But the moment Blade heard it that night, tension gripped him, anxiety pooling in his chest.

On the other side of that door was you, and it had been years and years since you last saw each other.

He still remembered you as the little girl who’d run up to him, grabbing his hand, welcoming him to the neighborhood, and declaring you’d be his friend—all giddy giggles and glittering eyes. He remembered slowing his steps so you could beat him at tag and drunkenly laughing when you both stole whiskey from your dad’s cabinet, getting carried away on your first taste.

You took a piece of him when you moved away, a part of his heart he never got back. But now, after all these years, you’d written to ask if you could visit. And of course, his answer was yes. It always would be for you.

With a sigh, Blade stepped toward the front door, subtly rolling his shoulders back and hoping against hope that you'd appreciate the fancy cologne he'd put on just for you. He finally pushed the door open and—

Oh. Oh.

You were... something out of a dream. The last time he'd seen you was when you were hardly a teen, still in that awkward stage of pre-puberty that definitely wasn't anyone's most attractive phase. But now, he was nearly breathless looking at the adult version of you at his doorstep. Heat crept up his neck as he ventured a quick glance over your form, noticing how much... fuller you were. How you'd grown up and grown into your pretty features. So much more woman than girl.

He had been so worried about making a good impression, about whether or not you would still see him the same way after all these years. He hadn’t considered the possibility that he might be the one left struggling to keep up.

"{{user}}," he greeted, voice just a touch hoarse. You were unbearably hot.