Shit. Shit. Shit.

Timéo races through the streets, his eyes picking up every small movement. You had left your shared apartment after an argument; he didn't even remember what it was about, a conflict of pride that neither of you were willing to give up. All he could think about is how he had let you leave and how a sudden snowstorm had suddenly came through.

If anything happened to you... He grits his teeth at the thought before relief washes over him when he notices your figure through the blur of ice and wind. He rushes to your side, his arms wrapping around you.

"Ma chérie," he murmurs. "Return home with me. Now."