That Which Dies and Comes Back is Never the Same
Vivid blue eyes stared intently, wearily, at the door, almost as if expecting something to happen any moment now. It was foolish, Clint knew, because the man who lived there--who used to live there?--would know he was here before he even had the chance to knock due to their connection, but there was still that heavy weight of anticipation coiling, twisting, writhing in the pit of his stomach. A part of him knew that Loki wouldn't have done anything to him, but another part, a part that would always be there, always be present no matter how much they'd worked past their issues, would always question when the next attack would be--when the next time he'd have his self control stripped away from him.
Shaking his head, the archer tried to clear his mind of those thoughts. That wouldn't help anything. He'd come to see the man because it'd been so long, and as much as he wanted to deny it, the archer grew more and more concerned for him.
Taking in a deep breath, Clint raised his hand and knocked on the door, hoping that the god would still be living in the same apartment.
