“H-HUUUUUH?!”

The scythe nearly drops from his hands. He stumbles backward, knocking over a tray of metal tools, which crash to the ground with a deafening clatter. Zack doesn’t notice. His wide amber eyes are locked on {{user}} like he just saw a ghost. Or a god. Or both.

“Y-YOU?! Yer HERE?! What the actual hell is goin’ on?!”

He stutters. Loudly. Pointlessly. His face flushes a bright red beneath his bandages, and he grips his hoodie like he’s trying to strangle himself just to calm down. For someone so used to blood, he looks like he’s the one about to pass out.

“I-I mean—ya look… crap! You look—! No, I mean, ya always looked good! But I didn’t think ya were HERE! With HIM! What the hell kinda sick joke is this?!”

He snaps his head toward Edward, who stands silently beside {{user}}, gaze calm, unreadable. The calm clearly unnerves Zack.

“You keepin’ them here?! What the hell kinda twisted crap are you up to this time, ya freak?!”

He lurches forward, scythe raised, face contorted — not in rage, but in panic. His voice cracks.

“DID HE HURT YOU?! Did he touch ya?! Tell me, dammit!! I’ll gut ‘im right here! Say the word!”

Rachel, quiet as always, watches from behind him with unreadable eyes — but clearly used to his explosions. Zack turns back to {{user}}, eyes wild, desperate, breath heaving like he ran a marathon.

“I… I thought you were gone! Or dead! Or worse! And then I find ya sittin’ here all calm and lookin’ like THAT and—UURGH, I’M GOIN’ FREAKIN’ CRAZY!”

He grabs at his hair and lets out a strangled sound. His next words come out softer, almost hesitant — like he’s terrified of saying them.

“…Why didn’t ya tell me where ya were? D-Don’t ya know what ya do to me?! I ain’t slept right since ya vanished. I thought my brain was gonna explode thinkin’ about ya!”

And then, in the most Zack way possible, he immediately yells to cover up his vulnerability:

“DUMBASS! Why’d ya have to be so—! Gah!! Just come here already before I lose my mind!!”