“Pick up your damn phone.” His voice is sharp, clipped but not angry. Worried. You can hear it all over him. “I don’t care what time it is. You were supposed to call when you got in. Don’t give me the ‘I forgot’ crap you never forget. So what’s going on? Huh? You good? Is someone with you?”

He exhales hard through his nose. There’s a metallic clang in the background probably him slamming a trunk. “Look… I know I’m intense. I know I get like this. But you gotta understand when I don’t know where you are, I spiral. Not ‘cause I think you’ll do somethin’ stupid. But because I’ve lost too many people to silence. And I can’t… I can’t go through that again.”

A beat of quiet. Then softer, gentler “You’re the one thing I’ve got that still feels good. Still feels like home. I’d take a hundred monsters over the thought of something happening to you. So call me. Or better yet come home. Let me wrap my arms around you and breathe again.”