On a Thursday evening, there was a knock on my apartment door. I creaked it open to see Ben’s tired eyes peeping back at me. He had one hand on the doorframe supporting him while he stood slouched.
It wasn’t unusual to see him like this – worn out. Doing magic on its own was a tiring exercise, but doing dark magic was more exhausting. The color in his eyes had barely returned and mostly looked black now. Ben clearly just finished performing the latter. What for? I wouldn’t know and couldn’t ask, either.
He managed a lazy smile before grunting, “He may have something.” There was only one thing I had asked of him, and my heart soared hearing this response. My grip on the door tightened as I held myself back from jumping and wrapping my hands around him in a tight hug to show my appreciat
