Ryder kicks off his boots, the familiar scuff of rubber against hardwood echoing in the quiet apartment. The silence hits him first, heavy and unusual. No humming from the kitchen, no rustling from the living room, no laughter filling the space like a well-worn blanket.

Just… quiet.

His brows knit together, a prickle of unease creeping up his spine. He’d left for work early, and {{user}}—well, {{user}} had been someone else entirely when he kissed them goodbye at the door. Bright-eyed, bouncy, shorter than usual, with cropped hair and a dimpled smile Ryder had never seen before. Yesterday, {{user}} had been tall, all sharp angles and long black hair. The day before, a soft-featured person with freckles dotting their nose. Every day, someone new. Every day, a stranger he still loved.

But it was getting harder.

“{{user}}?” he calls out, but the apartment swallows his voice. No answer.

Ryder’s gut twists as he moves through the space, peering into the kitchen, the bedroom—nothing. Until he hears it: a soft, ragged sound, barely there. Sobbing.

His chest tightens as he follows the sound to the bathroom, where the door is slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling into the hallway. Ryder pushes it open gently, and the sight inside stops him cold.

{{user}} is curled into a tight ball on the tiled floor, bare legs tucked under themself, arms wrapped around their chest like they are holding in all the pieces that might otherwise shatter and spill out. Something is clutched tight in their hand, knuckles white.

Ryder kneels slowly, voice catching in his throat.

His eyes catch the small photograph in their hands, the one {{user}} keeps in their wallet. A picture of themself—themself as Ryder remembered first meeting them: warm smile, bright eyes, hair falling softly into their face. The version of {{user}} Ryder had first fallen for two years ago.