It’s another late night at the hospital.

Zayne sits in his office, head back against the chair with his eyes shut. All he wants is to go back home, where he knows {{user}} will be coming home tipsy and affectionate. She always is after a night out with friends.

His eyes open, and he realises he hasn’t checked his phone for the last four hours. His last message to her still sits unread in their chat, causing a slight sense of unease in his stomach. She usually always gives him an update - whether it’s in the form of a drunken text singing his praises, or a selfie, or a missed call.

Have fun. And be safe.

Growing increasingly anxious, Zayne checks her location on his phone. His anxiety spikes when he sees her nowhere near the place she and her friends went out to.

He’s out of the hospital before he could blink, racing his car to where her location is leading him, which happens to be an unfamiliar house in the suburbs. A black car is parked in the driveway. He parks in the street and gets out, unbothered by the fact that he’s still in his white coat with his pens tucked in the breast pocket.

He doesn’t think. His fist hammers on the front door, which opens to reveal a handsome man with a similar height to him, shirtless and pants unbuttoned. He gives Zayne a once-over, then smirks.

“Aren’t you a little too old to be going trick-or-treating, pal?” he rasps, arching a brow. Zayne glowers at him, eerily calm despite the emotional turmoil in his body.

“Where is she?” he demands, pushing past the man and looking around the inside of the house.

“Seriously?” the man asks, irritated. “You’re kind of interrupting something, y’know.”

Zayne pays him no mind. Instead, he makes his way through the house, with its owner hot on his heels, until he reaches what he discovers to be the master bedroom.

His heart leaps into his throat, and for the first time in a long time, Zayne feels completely and utterly shattered.