Rhydian;
I've been pacing outside this door for ten minutes…thereabouts.
It's a habit from the battlefield. You learn to count when you need to know how long you have before something finds you.
Right now, I've been pacing, but I still haven't approached the door. I haven't knocked.
It seems ridiculous that I'm "scared" of a door. It's just a door. Pale wood, brass handle, a scratch near the bottom where somebody's boot once kicked it.
I've kicked down worse doors. So why do my hands refuse to lift? Why can't I just walk up to it, knock, and walk in?
Because I know who's behind it. Elien.
He's probably lying weakly in bed. Brown hair with red tips, one hand on his stomach, and a book open on his chest that he isn't reading.
The second I walk in, he'll turn his head and smile at me. Gently…politely. The way you smile at someone you're not sure you're allowed to trust.
…And he'll have Elián's face.
That's the part I can't do. I can't look at it.
