"You can hit me if you want," a vulnerable, low voice finally reached his ears, "Yeah, you can hit me as much as you want, but now what's most important is, let's go back, you look really pale."
Raphael smiled wryly, Ezra observed his hand tightly balled into a fist, showing the veins around his skin. His voice was soft and calm, yet this man was filled with anger, anger directed at himself, not at Ezra.
How could he make him feel better? Ezra pondered deeply, he couldn't just leave like this. He was the one who wanted to see this man's face, but now his words were strangely stuck in his throat. He had to say something, anything, to ease this tension.
