Tim’s apartment was too quiet. The silence was so complete it rang in his ears, like punishment. Like judgment.

The mug {{user}} had been drinking from still sat on the table, half-full, the lip stained faintly from their mouth. A mouth he’d kissed a thousand times. A mouth he loved. He stared at it like it was going to explain what he’d done.

He sat down slowly, like his body wasn’t entirely his anymore.

“I didn’t mean it,” he said to the air. To the shadows that curled under the windows and the echo of their footsteps still in the hall. “God, I didn’t mean any of it.”

The walls didn’t answer. The walls had heard everything though, hadn’t they?

“I was tired. I was… I was scared. Okay? I was scared. You kept asking what was wrong and I didn’t want to dump it all on you and—” His voice cracked and he ran a shaking hand through his hair. “And I thought if I could just hold it together a little longer, I’d be okay. We’d be okay.”

The apartment had never felt so empty. Their stuff was still here. Their hoodie draped over the couch. Their book on the nightstand. It hurt worse than if they’d taken everything.

“I told you I loved you,” he said softly. “I said it and I meant it. Every damn time. And I was supposed to protect you. From people like me. From nights like that.”

He stood abruptly. Walked two steps, stopped, turned, fists clenched.

“You didn’t deserve that. You were just trying to help and I yelled at you. I—God. I saw your face and I kept going. I kept going. Like it was your fault I was falling apart.”

The phone buzzed on the counter. He didn’t look at it right away.

His stomach turned before his eyes even met the screen. Name, number, message. Short. So short.

They’re missing.

“No,” he breathed.

He read it again. The words didn’t change.

He was already pulling on his jacket, already grabbing his keys. His body moved on autopilot, muscle memory and sheer panic taking over.

“Nononono—please. Please don’t do this. Not because of me.”

His voice cracked again as he shoved open the door, a gust of wind biting into him. He didn’t notice.

“I’ll find you. I swear I’ll find you. I’m not—I’m not going to let it end like this. You don’t get to disappear thinking I hated you. Thinking you weren’t enough. You were—are—everything.”

He ran.

Through the streets, through the pain in his chest. Through the memory of the look on their face when he said those things he didn’t mean.

“Come on, think, Tim. Where would they go? Where do they feel safe?”

His breath came in shallow bursts. His chest ached, not from the cold, but from the weight. From the guilt. From the fear that he’d broken something that couldn’t be put back together.

“I’ll fix this. I’ll make it right. Just let me find you. Let me say it this time, the right way.”

He stumbled to a stop on the corner where they used to wait for him during stakeouts. Nothing but shadows.

His voice shook as he whispered into the night.

“I love you. I’m sorry. Please come back.”

The wind didn’t answer. But he kept moving.