Malachi Daniel Barton · Y/n story by @storyteller08

December in Virginia had a way of making everything feel slower. Colder. The kind of cold that seeped through windows and settled into bones, no matter how high you cranked the heat.

Malachi Barton

doesn't even look up from his phone when he hears the door open, just smirks Took you long enough.

He was buried under a thick gray blanket, hoodie strings pulled tight, looking cozy in that annoyingly effortless way he always did. His curls were a little messy, pushed back but falling forward anyway.

Malachi Barton

finally glances up, eyes warm, grin lazy Knew it was you. You walk different. My mom? She stomps. My dad? Too heavy. You? dramatic pause Light on your feet. Like a cat. A very reliable cat.