Given that I'd passed out at maybe about six in the evening, it wasn't all that surprising that I woke up at some stupid hour the next day. I mean, half seven in the morning is a ridiculous time to wake up.
I was about to roll over and go back to sleep when I realised suddenly that I had the whole bed to myself. I sat up, listening out for him, but I couldn't hear anything other than Rayn snoring away on the sofa.
"Kyle?" I call through the bathroom door. Nothing. I open it, and... nothing. Just dried blood on the floor. I bite my lip and look in the kitchen, but he's not here at all. "Fuck. Fuck."
He can't be at school, it's too early for that. Too early for work. Kyle, where the fuck are you? I wouldn't be worried if I couldn't remember last night, but unfortunately I can.
"Fuck's sake," I mutter, noticing that Kyle's left his keys on the kitchen counter. I rummage through Rayn's pockets, pulling out his wallet and making a mental note to pay him back before replacing it in his pocket and leaving in search of Kyle.
I'm such a shit boyfriend. I've only had two boyfriends, but I've managed to fuck both of them up. Christ, what is wrong with me?
Of course, driving around town slowly at this hour kind of isn't an option, unless I wanna get my balls ripped off by some angry fucker trying to get to work, so it's admittedly at speed that I see this guy walking around. But he looks like Phil. Admittedly, he looks kinda normal compared to Phil, but let's face it, Phil's hardly gonna look all drug addict-ish anymore is he? He's going to look like a normal human being.
I try to glance back and get another look, but he's already fucked off down some other street, and out of sight.
And then I give myself a huge old mental slap. You're meant to be thinking about Kyle, your boyfriend, remember? Not Phil, who lives pretty much on the other side of America, Kyle.
I spend another good three hours looking for him, but it's like he's vanished off the face of the planet without so much as a warning. No one's seen him, and no one knows where he might have gone. The hour of looking after that is spent to the tune of angry phone calls from Annie and the studio guy both asking me where the fuck I am/was. I tell Annie that I spent the night shitting my guts out, and the studio guy that I'll be right there and that I'm just having a tiny little crisis.
The second I'm let out for a break, I sit outside with a smoke and my phone, wondering if I should call or text Kyle. ‘Cause I'm not stupid, something's obviously not right, and I dunno if he was like that because of me coming home stoned off my face or if it's something else altogether. And I dunno if he'd want to talk to me over the phone.
So I text him. "Hey gorgeous. Where you been all day?"
"Planning on coming home tonight?"
It takes him a while to reply, and I can feel myself getting more and more anxious every time I look down at my phone and see that another minute's passed. "Not sure yet" he replies eventually.
"Why? What's happened?"
"Nothing. I just need some time to think" Because that sounds promising.
"Did I do something wrong? Other than getting stoned. I'm sorry." I know I promised I wouldn't, but it just keeps getting the better of me. I'm sorry I'm such a fuck up, Kyle.
"You haven't done anything"
"Oh. I hope you do come back. I missed you this morning :("
"It's okay. Love you."
"Love you too"
Why do I get the feeling he's not coming home tonight?