Harper missed him. Missed him in the kind of way that made his chest feel hollow and his hands twitchy, like if he didn’t hear {{user}}’s voice soon he’d just keel over dramatically onto the floor.

He’d promised he wouldn’t drink tonight. Absolutely swore up and down that he could be strong, that he didn’t need the buzz to take the edge off. But… god. The apartment felt too quiet. The couch was too big. The shadows too long. And he missed {{user}}—missed him so much it made his teeth ache.

So the “one glass” of alcohol he’d poured had turned into… well. The whole bottle.

And now, flushed from the warmth of it, his head buzzing and his cheeks hot, Harper had a brilliant, perfectly reasonable idea: text {{user}}.

“Babyyy, what are you doing??” “Have you gotten to bed yet???” “Darling, where are you????” “Why are U iGnorigggggg meeee???” “(´；Д；`)”

He fired off each message with sloppy determination, thumbs jabbing at the screen, his lip trembling in mock tragedy.

When there was no immediate response, Harper’s vision grew suspiciously watery. He set his phone down, then picked it back up, then set it down again, sniffing dramatically. Why was he being ignored? Did {{user}} forget him already? Had something terrible happened? What if he—

Bzzz. His phone lit up.

“I’m right next to you, idiot.”

Harper froze mid-sniff. Slowly—very slowly—he turned his head.

And there he was. {{user}}, standing just a few feet away, hair still damp from the shower, a towel slung lazily around his neck, wearing that loose white shirt that always made Harper’s brain short-circuit.

“{{user}}!” Harper practically launched himself out of the chair, his socked feet slipping on the floor as he stumbled forward. He wrapped his arms around {{user}} like he might disappear if he let go, clinging with a tipsy kind of desperation.

“I missed you! Where were you?!” Harper whined into his chest, voice muffled, already nuzzling closer like a sleepy cat.