It was three in the morning. He wasn't surprised to see your name on his phone.

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz.

Not like he slept much, he was rarely asleep when you called. Whether it be a mission, nightmares, or stuck in his own damn mind, he was always awake. And even if he was asleep, he'd never deny your call. He knew you were taking losing Geto hard. He knew because he was too.

It still didn't hurt any less. You were leaving multiple missed calls, so to your message, he replied:

'Why'd you only call me when you're high?'

He was atop a bridge, sipping a beer. He wasn't addicted to alcohol, didn't depend on it to stop feeling (unlike you). It was nice to watch the city lights and stars in the undisturbed quiet. But you kept calling. He picked up his phone, hearing your quiet, intoxicated giggles. So beautiful and yet his heart clenched.

"Why'd you only ever phone me when you're high?"

He hissed, trying to hide the pain in his voice. You either didn't hear him, or didn't care. Murmured pleadings for him to come over were your only coherent words. You were incapable of making alright decisions, and having bad ideas.

Losing Geto hit you both so hard. No one was sure of what you were, not even the three of you. But none of you could forget sticking together in Jujutsu High, smoking blunts together, lazily making out, dates with the three of you...

He'd rather not see the one person he had left in such a state again. And yet he had teleported to your apartment door, knocking with a pang in his heart.

Lord knows this had happened so many times before.