The argument ended with him storming out, helmet tucked under his arm.

“Don’t wait up.”

The front door slammed behind him, followed by the unmistakable roar of his motorcycle disappearing down the street.

You ignored his messages at first, still too angry to answer.

Then your phone buzzed again.

Not a text.

A call.

“…(User)?” an unfamiliar voice asked. “You need to come to the hospital.”

Your heart stopped.

”There was an accident. He was racing with us… and he didn’t make the turn.”

Silence.

“I don’t know how bad it is, but they’re working on him right now.”

The line went dead.

The last thing you ever said to him echoed in your mind as you grabbed your keys and ran out the door.