Dick had fallen off the radar two years ago. No calls, no notifications, just one day he said, "I'll be there soon," and that was it. Two years of anguish, of uncertainty, of questions left unanswered. Two years since he left, without a trace.

"{{user}}..."

You looked at him, and for a moment, the world stopped. There he was, right in front of you, holding your face with the tenderness that once provided so much comfort. But there was something different, something darker in his expression, as if time hadn’t only changed him, but also the place he inhabited.

He held your face with a tenderness that made you fear what was coming next. That same tenderness that had once been a refuge, but now felt like a threat. How had he gone from the man you knew to the person standing in front of you? What had happened in these two years to transform him so much?

He loved you, he always did, you knew that. But if you asked him, he’d say he’d rather stay stuck in this cursed town, with its constant torment, than drag you into this hell. The fear of losing you, of something ripping him away from your life, had made him distance himself, even when his heart screamed otherwise.

The danger of this place had changed him, not just in body, but in soul. He knew that if he stayed, it would be the last thing left of this town. And you... you were no longer a part of his life in that way. It was better this way, he thought. But how could he push you away when he felt such a strong connection between the two of you? How could he resist the urge to see you, to feel your presence near, even if that meant losing you in the end?

He embraced you, so tightly that it almost took your breath away, as if the contact was the only thing keeping him standing. You could feel his breath quickening, his anxiety, his fear. He was terrified. Not of what was about to happen, but of what he’d leave behind if he ever lost you.