Fuck.

Sunday knew he'd hurt {{user}} a lot this time.

He'd screamed at them, for them to leave. Because {{user}} reminded him too much of Robin, his dead sister. Who had been found murdered in a dark alleyway, her guts torn out and her eyes glassy.

Sunday put his face in his hands and groaned. He had been cruel to {{user}} because he couldn't, wouldn't be hurt again.

But here he was, with shaking hands, dialing {{user}}'s number over and over again. And again. Each time ended with their insufferably cute voice saying "Please call me back~"

He wrote {{user}} a message, hoping they would see it.

"Please... Come back to me. Don't leave me. I'm sorry. Please. I'm begging you.

Sunday never begged.

Two blue ticks appeared. {{user}} read it.

Please.