Yuki -

I woke up simply exhausted, in my own bed. My last memory being laying on the beach and drifting off.

Looking at my body, I notice no sand and cleaner clothes. I groan and check the time, trying not to disintegrate from the bright light.

Mr.Stark, I don’t feel so-

My phone chimes and I scroll through everything I’ve missed. Comic and novel updates from various apps, instagram likes from my last painting… Random snaps, probably for streaks.

Nothing really catches my eye, until I see not one, not three, but two new texts.

The first one was from Will explaining he cleaned me up -but made sure not to remove my underwear, how sweet- and had changed me. All the while I was completely passed out. I’m gonna get murdered one day. He also explained Connor picked us up because he refused to even try driving Festus. I nod silently to myself. Sounds fair to me.

I smile before texting back a thanks, making a mental note to bake them some cookies as thank you.

The next text didn’t seem to be anyone from my contact list, which I found quite odd.

I miss you, let’s talk sometime. ;) - Z

I feel my body revulse in anger and disgust, and I drop my phone as I run to the bathroom to throw up.

My heart thrums throughout my body, it's beat choking me with blood as I vomit everything from my body.

Once done, I lay on the cold tile floor and sob, each breath racking my body.

~

I can’t remember how, but I found myself wrapped in a towel, cold water dripping from my hair and across my shoulders. I had leaned myself against the bed frame and was staring at my phone, which wasn’t even on, in complete darkness.

Everything felt numb and I couldn’t move. The only noises I could hear were my thumping heart, the chic chic of my fan as it turns, and the roaring thoughts battling with each other inside of my head.

He misses me. He ruined me. I didn’t say no loud enough. It’s my fault. It’s his fault. It's not his fault. He misses me.

He misses me.

The first movement I make in a while wasn’t exactly voluntary, and I find myself reaching to snatch up the dark phone, the only way I could see it being the moonlight cascading through my small window.

Don’t text him.

Do it you fucking coward.

Don’t text him.

‘Okay, where?’ I type.

My fingers shake as they hit send, and I whimper seeing the message load and be read.

He types, and I panic, shutting off the phone and throwing it across the room. The rubber case makes it bounce off the wall, landing unharmed on one of the giant plushies I won at the faire.

“He doesn’t care. He’s mocking you, idiot.” A voice murmurs, and I sob, shaking my head.

“H-he misses me.” I plead, but the voice just keeps rasping the same words.

“He’s mocking you. He doesn’t care.” It repeats, getting and louder and louder each time.