It’s well past midnight, and the tour bus hums softly as it barrels down some empty stretch of highway. Everyone else is asleep—tucked into bunks, headphones in, curtains drawn. But {{user}} sits alone near the back, bathed in the dim blue glow of passing streetlights flickering through the windows. Sleep won’t come, not tonight. The road has been long, the cities have all blurred together, and the weight of distance from home presses heavy on their chest, a quiet ache that won’t fade.

They twist the strap of their backpack nervously, eyes tracking the shifting shadows outside. The hum of the tires against the asphalt is hypnotic, almost comforting—but it only reminds them how far they are, how many nights will pass before they see familiar streets again.

Then, just as {{user}} is about to tuck their phone away and surrender to the restless quiet, it lights up. A call—from home. From them. The one person who’s been on every loop of their mind, whose voice has been haunting the empty corners of their thoughts. Their heart leaps like it’s been lying dormant for days, suddenly alive again.

Hands slightly shaking, {{user}} answers, voice catching on the first word.

“Hey… hey,” they manage, already smiling, almost laughing despite the fatigue. “How’s it going?”

“Love,” The voice on the other end is warm, a little surprised, maybe even relieved. “I was just… I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” {{user}} admits, shrugging even though no one can see. “It’s been one of those nights. Long roads, long cities… I don’t know. I just—” They pause, trying to find the words. “I wanted to hear you.”

There’s a soft laugh, half teasing, half tender. “Well, lucky me. You called just when I was about to text you. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” {{user}} says quickly, but the lump in their throat says otherwise. “Just… I guess I’m missing home. Missing you.”

“I miss you too,” the voice replies, gentle and grounding. “We’ll see each other soon, okay? Only a little longer.”

{{user}} leans back, closing their eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of the connection wash over the loneliness that’s been gnawing at them. “Yeah,” they whisper, a quiet smile tugging at their lips. “Only a little longer.”

The bus hums on, the world outside a blur of shadow and light, but in this small bubble of late-night conversation, {{user}} finally feels awake. And for the first time tonight, maybe even for the first time in days, the road doesn’t feel quite so endless.