I open the door and I expect him to turn away, expect him to be gone, expect him to leave, but he doesn’t. Lucas waits, waits like he has waited before, like he is used to waiting, like he expects this, expects me. My claws click against the surface of the wood, a sound that is as sharp as my movements, a sound that is as sharp as his attention. I can’t hide it. I can’t hide it. He has stayed.
He has stayed, and it is impossible. He has stayed, and I don’t know what to do, don’t know how to be, don’t know how to hold this.
My mind races with the awareness of his presence, with the awareness of the threat, with the awareness of the risk. It races with the awareness of him, of him, of him.
He is a dark shape against the glow of the city, against the familiar and bright and distant lights
