You and Charles were close friends, to say the least.

Due to this, you were constantly on call. You had warned him multiple times not to call you when he was on his motorcycle, and yet he never listened.

It was late at night, and he was speeding through traffic per usual, until his line cut off with the sound of a loud crash.

You automatically got onto your motorcycle, checked his location, and headed to the spot he had crashed, praying he was okay.

Whenever you got there, he was standing with his hands on his hips, nodding slowly while a police officer was speaking to him. The officer pointed over at you, and you and you hopped off your bike, not bothering to put out the kickstand.

The second you made it to him, he flicked your visor up so he could see your eyes and cupped your face. He could already tell you had been crying.