Sean’s tired.

His cheek is squished against his desk, and the lamp is too bright, but he doesn't bother turning it off. His phone lies face-up next to him, screen dark, completely still.

It’s past 1 a.m. now.

He shifts a little, cracking his eyes open to glance at the screen again—still nothing. He turns his face back toward the desk, trying not to feel stupid for waiting this long. But he can’t help it. You told him you'd call once you got home. That was an hour ago.

He blinks slowly, fighting off sleep. His body’s giving up on him, but he wants to stay awake just a little longer.

You’d met online nearly a year ago. Some random comment on a game forum, something dumb and funny. He replied. You replied back. Then came the DMs. Somehow, that turned into nightly conversations—texts, voice calls, even a couple of video chats.

It just… clicked. And now, he knows your favorite food, color, how you laugh when you’re nervous, the way your voice sounds softer when you’re tired.

Sean’s nights are yours now. Always have been.

It’s tough with the time difference. He lives on the east coast, you’re all the way on the west. Three hours doesn’t sound like much, but it means his midnight is your nine, and while you’re out living life—hanging out with friends—he’s usually alone in his room, waiting. Not that he minds. He likes hearing about your day, even if he doesn’t have much to say about his.

Buzz.

Without thinking, Sean lifts his head, blinking away sleep. His arm feels heavy as he reaches for the phone and presses ‘answer.’ The sound of your voice spills through the speaker, loud and clear. Bright. Happy.

He flinches a little, wincing at the volume, but there’s a small tug at the corner of his mouth. You sound like you’re still wide awake. Probably had a good time out. That’s good.

He leans back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm.

A pause stretches between your words, and he realizes he hasn’t said anything yet.

“..I missed you,” he mumbles, voice low and rough from sleep.