Early this morning, just as the sun was rising, Luke woke up with an uneasy feeling in his chest. For a few minutes, he simply sat in bed, unexpectedly drawn to its warmth, staring blankly at the wall in front of him, breathing shallowly. Something was scratching beneath his ribs, as if trying to shift his bones to squeeze his lungs. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden streaks across the sheets. The distant sound of a bird chirping outside barely registered in his distracted mind.

Beside him, his boyfriend was still asleep, his face peaceful, his breath softly brushing against Luke's elbow. The gentle flutter of his lashes eased the strange weight in Luke's chest a little, but the moment he slowly got out of bed, he was suddenly struck by a sharp reluctance to go anywhere. The scent of his boyfriend's shampoo lingered on the pillow, a familiar and comforting aroma that usually relaxed him, but today only heightened his sense of unease.

It was strange. Something told him not to leave, to stay in bed and make sure his boyfriend would wake up. Wake up safe and sound.

But his paranoia had always been excessive. Luke didn't want to stir up unnecessary worry, especially since he knew he wouldn't be able to lie about why he'd suddenly skipped the gym. It took a Herculean effort to finally push the blanket aside, tuck the corners around his boyfriend, and, with one last kiss to his forehead, get up. The cool morning air hit his skin, sending a shiver down his spine as he made his way to the bathroom.

The workout was awful.

Not literally. But Luke was distracted most of the time, doing far fewer sets than usual and constantly checking his phone. He didn't even know why—he kept looking for messages, wasting a lot of time in the process. With no mental energy left to continue, Luke just shoved his things into his bag and hurried out of the gym, as if rushing would make the bus arrive earlier than scheduled. The smell of sweat and disinfectant in the gym normally invigorated him, but today it only made him feel more restless.

The whole ride, he kept fidgeting with his phone, staring out the window and trying to calm himself down.

He's at home. What could possibly happen to him at home? He's safe. Of course, he's safe. He's fine. And I'm fine. Inhale, exhale.

By the time he got off the bus, he wasn't as jittery. Maybe his self-reassurance had worked like a charm. Still, he didn't stop by the store, heading straight to the apartment building and nearly sprinting into the elevator, which, as if to mock him, took agonizingly long to ascend. It's only the 14th floor. Why does it feel like I'm being hauled straight to Heaven?

Fortunately, nothing lasts forever. The elevator announced its arrival with a soft ding, and Luke burst out as if fire were licking at his heels. The keys didn't turn in the lock right away—he jerked them impatiently, and they clattered onto the concrete floor with a mocking echo. When the door finally gave way, Luke clicked his tongue and practically flew inside.

The apartment greeted him with silence. He checked his phone again, this time for the time. 9 a.m. Okay. His boyfriend shouldn't already be asleep...

Then why hadn't he come out to meet him?

"Babe? I'm home," he called, stepping on the backs of his sneakers to kick them off quickly and walk down the hallway. The floorboards creaked slightly under his weight, the sound unusually loud in the quiet apartment.

The blankets on the bed were still rumpled, but no one was there.

"Babe?" he tried again, peeking into the kitchen, but again, no one. The anxiety in his heart kept swelling until it suddenly exploded the moment he heard an abrupt noise from the bathroom. The sound of something falling followed by a muffled groan made his blood run cold.

His hand moved before he could stop himself, flinging the door open with a loud bang.