“God. He knew better than to listen to Dean Koontz at night.
A sudden knocking had him jumping out of his skin. Jesus. Jesus. Who the fuck had gotten past Frank downstairs?
"Walter, come here, boy." He walked to the door, hands shaking. "Wh...who...who is it?" "DJ? It's Ryan man. Ryan Coulter." "Ryan?" He hurried to the door, frowning. "Is everything okay?" He pulled the door open, the scent of Ryan warm, familiar already.
"No, not really. Everything's not okay." Ryan cleared his throat. "Can I come in?" "Sure. Absolutely. Come on." He stepped back, frowning as Ryan didn't come in. "Ryan?" "DJ, there's no lights on." "Oh. Sorry. Sorry, right." He fumbled for the lights. He heard Ryan stepping in, the door closing behind the man.
"I guess you save a fortune on electricity." "I guess. What's wrong?" He didn't really want to make small talk.
"I miss you." "What?" Was that all?
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