He’s with his friends, leaning against the railing, half-tuned into the conversation, half lost in his own head. Someone’s talking, another is laughing too loud, and he throws in the occasional comment without much thought. His phone stays in his hand out of habit, screen dark. You usually text him. You always text him.

So when it rings, sharp and sudden, he freezes.

He looks down at the screen and sees your name.

For a split second, his mind goes blank. You never call unless something’s wrong. His chest tightens, instinct kicking in before logic can catch up. He straightens immediately, attention snapping away from everything else. The noise around him fades as he takes a few steps away, jaw set, grip tightening around his phone. His friends notice the shift in his body language and go quiet without being told.

He answers on the first ring, voice low, edged with urgency.

“Hello...? What’s going on?”