requested tw: implied s/h

Concern. That was all there was—etched, even, across Coil’s face. He’d kept track of the days since he’d last seen his partner, and it had already been far too long. Coil knew the basics—maybe you just needed space? It was possible you were simply preoccupied with tasks or duties.

But how could he stand by and do nothing when it had already been months? No activity that causes zero contact should last this long. Coil had to push his fears and assumptions aside for the moment, but still, the thought crept in: what if something had happened? No, he couldn’t let himself think that.

For the past few weeks, Coil hadn’t made any decisions to actually check up on you. Until now, really.

The door pried open, followed by the gentle jingle of keys dropping onto the wooden floor. After a brief moment to gather his composure, Coil took a step inside.

..He was almost taken aback by the state of the room. He’d absentmindedly expected a mess—but nothing like this. It looked like a hurricane had hit the house. Papers, clothes, and broken trinkets were scattered about the small area, mixed with empty glasses and dishes left unattended.

Yet, this was the least of Coil’s concerns. He stepped over several obstacles of garbage, searching every room—for atleast one trace of you. With every empty room, his fears grew worse. But finally—finally—he reached your door.

“{{user}}? Wherever ya are, this isn’t really funn—“

Coil called out, pushing the door open.

He froze in place. Coil’s breath hitched. He barely registered the rest of the room—the mess, the disaster, the blade. None of it mattered. All he could see was you.

His body moved before his mind could catch up.

“Hey—hey, {{user}}, talk to me,” he blurted out, his voice unsteady. Coil knelt beside you, careful but quick, his hands hovering uselessly as if afraid to touch you too suddenly. “You—” His voice caught in his throat. Gods, he should have come sooner. “You with me?”