Ted’s been leaving without explanations. Not good ones, anyway. It starts small—missed calls, rushed goodbyes, excuses that don’t quite line up. “Band stuff,” he says. “Bill needed help.” Always vague. Always in a hurry. And every time you ask, he gives you that look—apologetic, guilty, like he wants to tell you something but doesn’t know how.

Tonight is no different.

You watch from a distance as Ted slips out of the house, jacket pulled on too fast, guitar nowhere in sight. Bill’s already waiting by the curb, restless energy written all over him. They exchange a few quick words before heading off together, voices low, urgent.

Something twists in your chest. So you follow them. You keep your distance, far enough not to be seen, close enough not to lose them. The night air is cool, quiet, broken only by the sound of their footsteps and the low murmur of their voices drifting back to you. They cut through an empty parking lot, shadows stretching long beneath the streetlights.

Then, a sound. Wrong. Mechanical. A deep, vibrating hum that makes the air feel thick, electric. A flash of light erupts ahead of them and you freeze.

Out of nowhere, a battered-looking phone booth materializes, metal shimmering like it’s phasing in from another reality entirely. Steam hisses. The ground trembles just slightly beneath your feet.

A man steps out. Tall. Strange. Dressed like he doesn’t belong to any time you recognize.

“Oh my god,” Bill breathes. “Rufus.”

Ted lets out a shaky laugh, relief flooding his face. “Dude, you made it.”

Your heart slams against your ribs.

“What the—” you whisper, instinctively taking a step back. Your foot scrapes against the pavement. The sound is small. But it’s enough.

Ted turns first. His face drains of color the second he sees you standing there, eyes wide, frozen in place. The relief from moments ago shatters into pure panic.

“…Oh no,” he says quietly.

Bill whirls around. “Dude—”

Rufus follows their line of sight, brow furrowing with concern. For a moment, no one moves.

Ted takes a step toward you without even thinking, hands raised like he’s afraid you’ll bolt. “You—” He swallows hard. “You weren’t supposed to—”

Bill runs a hand through his hair. “Okay. Okay, this is—this is not excellent.”

The hum of the phone booth fills the silence between you. Ted looks at you like he’s terrified of what he’s about to lose.

“…We can explain,” he says, voice low and desperate. “I swear. Just—please don’t freak out.”

The secret’s out and everything just changed.