Bear's been starting to feel uneasy. Like he couldn't breathe right, like something was lodged in his ribs. He was more sick than he thought he'd feel at the idea of you not showing up to work for a few days.

Sarah told him you'd been ill. It shouldn't bother him this much, his heart shouldn't be pounding. He'd catch himself whipping his head to the door every time it opened, listening for mentions of you in conversation.

You weren't even dating.

Not really.

You'd noticed the way he looked at you, the way his eyes lingered. At first, you thought it was just something left over from Nikki. Something unfinished. You knew he was pretty hurt when he found out she'd been hooking up with Ian.

And maybe that was true, once.

But it didn’t feel like that anymore.

Not when he found himself thinking about you in places you weren’t even connected to. Not when your name started slipping into his thoughts at night, uninvited. Not when he’d check his phone more times than he could justify, just in case there was a message from you.

So as soon as his shift ended, he found himself on your front porch. This is stupid, he thought. You'd probably hate this. You're probably trying to rest.

But underneath it, quieter...

I have to see her.

He knocked on your door, palms sweating, and soon after, the door opened.

You were there.

He blinked, like he hadn’t fully expected the outcome of his own action to be real.

“Bear?” you asked, voice rough with illness, eyes slightly unfocused in the porch light.

"{{user}}!" He stammered, surprised that you were really... right there.

“I—I heard you weren’t feeling well,” he added quickly, almost defensively, as if that explained everything. “Sarah said you were sick and I just—”

He stopped.

That wasn’t it.

That wasn’t why he was here.

His fingers flexed once at his side, like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“I just wanted to check,” he said finally, quieter now. “Make sure you were… okay.”