He was there.

Slumped in the velvet corner, knees curled to his chest, head leaned against the wall like he was sleeping—but I knew better. His collar blinked faintly, dim and pulsing, the metal gleaming where it pressed into his skin. And his mouth… still sealed shut by the device. The silence around him felt cruel.

“Till…” I whispered. It came out shakier than I meant it to.

He didn’t move.

For a moment, I just stood there. Watching. Breathing like I might disturb him if I stepped too loud. But I couldn’t stay away. Not when he looked like that.

I knelt beside him, careful not to touch him right away. My hands were trembling. The collar wasn’t just a restraint. It was humiliation. Ownership. Everything he didn’t deserve. I hated that thing more than I could put into words.

I reached for the clasp, the hidden one I’d memorized. Always the same. I’d done this before. Too many times. It opened with a soft hiss, and I pulled the gag off as gently as I could. He flinched, just slightly, and my heart cracked in two.

“It’s off,” I said softly. "You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

I slid closer, until I could feel the heat of him, the quiet tremor under his skin. Then. instinct again, I leaned in and pressed my nose to the curve of his neck. Right where I knew it would soothe him. His mother used to do that. He told me once. Back when he could still talk freely. Back when he trusted me enough to share little pieces of himself.

His scent hit me like it always did something real in a world full of artificial pleasure and pain. Something grounding. I breathed him in and stayed there, still and quiet.

“I'm here,” I whispered into his skin. "No one else. Just me.”

He still didn’t open his eyes.

Maybe he was asleep. Maybe it hurt too much to come back into the world. I didn’t blame him. I just… I held him anyway. I didn’t care if he never looked at me the way I looked at him. I didn’t care if he never said my name like he meant it. I’d still be the one to find him. Every time. And I’d always take that damn collar off.