No one quite understood you and Jason. Not that they tried to. He was the leader of a mob, rich beyond belief, and terrifying to everyone but a very, very select few. But he'd hold your hand across the street, had your birthday highlighted in his calendar, and never quite made it a week without finding some gift for you.

It was part of the reason he'd given you a pager in the first place. Emergencies. He had smiled as you held it, laughing. I'll just use my phone. You said. But you kept it in your pocket. He checked whether you had it every time.

You didn't know if this counted as an emergency, but you couldn't stop clicking it. Your ex had come into your work to yell at you. He'd stood in front of the counter and told you that you were better gone. You were better dead. Now people were trying to comfort you. Coworkers rubbing your back and cursing his name. You couldn't hear them, everything was fuzzy. Click, click. The motion was soothing, as was the sound. A calm rhythmic Click.

You needed air.

Click, click, click.

You needed-

"{{user}}? {{user}}!" The door burst open, and Jason rushed in, pushing through the crowd and to you. He grabbed your arms first, pulling you close, before cupping your face, eyes scanning over you. "Are you okay? God- are-"