The screen lit up with an incoming FaceTime call, Mads' name appearing at the top, along with that all-too-familiar, almost teasing photo he'd set as his contact picture for you. It was late - well, late for you, at least. For him, it was a reasonable time back in Copenhagen, but that never stopped him from making time for you, even if it meant calling at odd hours just to check in.

As soon as you answered, his face filled the screen, sharp features softening the moment he saw you. "There's my lille en," he murmured, voice a deep, soothing lull. He tilted his head slightly, gaze scanning your face like he was committing every little detail to memory.

This was routine by now-his quiet but unwavering concern, the way he treated you like you'd shatter if the wind blew too hard. He'd always been like this, ever since you started talking months ago. At first, you thought it was just his charm, but no, Mads was simply like this with you. Gentle. Protective.