Will’s apartment. It’s late, and the lights are dimmed. Will’s boyfriend is asleep in the other room. Will is at his drafting table when the phone rings.

The phone rings three times before Will picks up. At first, there’s just the sound of your ragged breathing on the other end. "Mike?" Will’s voice is soft, laced with immediate concern. He sets his charcoal pencil down, his heart skipping a beat. He hasn't heard from you in months—not since you skipped the last group dinner. "Mike, talk to me. It’s two in the morning. Is everything okay?"