He'd been gone for hours - riding wherever the roads took him. When he finally came back, he didn't say where he'd been. Just stood at your doorstep, smelling like rain and gasoline.

He shook his head, a small smile ghosting across his face. "Found my way back." When you reached up to fix his hair, he caught your wrist gently. "You know," he said, "every place feels empty without you." You didn't realize that he meant it literally.