My phone starts ringing, but at first I’m not sure if it’s real. It’s how all my dreams start out now.

I’d be sleeping and then it rings to wake me up. That’s where it changes only slightly. It’s always Duke and he’s always telling me someone died, but the person varies. On occasion it’s Maya or Brie or Toby. Sometimes it’s Dad or Pops or one of my sisters. Once it was Sanders. But mostly, it’s Henry. It’s almost always Henry. And then it goes to the crime scene and I’m standing above a white sheet. There’s a note pinned to the chest. Just as they’re pulling the sheet away from the face, I startle awake.

I can’t get away from it. The same scenario happens every time I close my eyes. Which means, when I startle awake in the middle of the night I just go back to replay the same thing; sometimes with a different name.

But this time I realize it’s actually my phone ringing. At first I’m confused because it’s a day before it’s supposed to happen again, but then I just sigh. No one else would call me in the middle of the night.

When I put my glasses on and look at the caller ID, I confirm my suspicions. ‘Duke’ is displayed boldly across the top. My heart clenches a little more every time. I don’t want this to be my life.

“Ashton,” I answer quietly as I sit up.

There’s a second where I can hear him sigh, “Hey, we need you.”

“I figured,” I tell him, but not in a mean manner.

One thing that’s come of this is that Duke and I aren’t fighting anymore. He’s been a little sympathetic throughout the process. It’s more of a quiet understanding we have now. I think he can see that I hate not being able to help. Unfortunately it took this for him to see that I don’t just see my work as an acting job; that I’m not the spoiled rich kid the media makes me out to be.

“There’s something you might want to-” he starts to say, but I cut him off.

There’s nothing he can really tell me over the phone. I’ll be there soon as see for myself. Plus, I’m just so tired and aggravated. Or maybe, I just don’t want to hear what he has to say yet.

“I’ll see it when I get there,” pushing myself out of bed, I make my way over to our closet.

He sighs again, “But Ashton-”

“Just text me an address and I’ll be there soon. I don’t want to wake up Henry.” I decide on just jeans and a t-shirt. I don’t want to get into a full suit and then just take it off again when I get home in an hour.

“Alright, man. I’ll see you.”

That’s the end of our conversation. There isn’t much more that I need to say. We’ve done this three times before. All I do is show up, give them a hint on who it is, read the note, and then they have Sanders escort me home.

The only reason my partner comes with me is because I think the department is afraid I’ll go after this guy myself. But just like them, I’m stumped.

I guess I have my suspicions. Danny sounds almost perfect for this. He has the angry ex thing going for him. Well, except, he isn’t exactly an ex. He’s just this guy that thinks he’s in love with Henry and has some issue with my boyfriend not feeling the same.

At the same time, I’m not sure he’d be smart enough to calmly plan all this out. He seems more of an act now pay later kind of guy. Emotions aren’t his strong suit; especially patience.

As for me, I don’t have any scorn loves that I know of. I’ve never let a relationship last for more than a couple hours in bed at the most. Even my senior prom date wasn’t really that. I told this girl to save me a dance. It’s not my fault if she didn’t let anyone else take her.

Or maybe I should have explained better…

Anyway, that was years ago. I don’t have anyone that would care this much now.

Getting dressed doesn’t take long. I do end up putting my contacts in instead of wearing my glasses, just in case. It’s better to be prepared.

As soon as I’m ready, I walk back into our bedroom and kiss my boyfriend on his temple.

He opens his eyes reluctantly, “Again?”

“I’ll be back soon, babe,” I capture his lips with mine. Maybe, I stay there a little longer than usual. Maybe, I take my time kissing him goodbye. After a minute or so, I put my forehead to his, “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”

“I love you,” his voice is thick with sleep as his eye battle to close.

I let my lips linger on his again before I ghost a whisper over his mouth, “Me too.”

It’s not that I don’t want to say the words. It’s that I want to say them so much that they’re tattooed across his lips. And that, that scares me. It doesn’t scare me in that way that love scares people that are uncertain. It scares me in the way that my life is in danger and I don’t want his to be. So, if I play it down a little, maybe it won’t be so scary.

It doesn’t work.

The drive seems familiar. I’ve been this way before, but I don’t know why. It’s a little weird though. All of the murders have been somewhere public. They’d also been killed somewhere else and brought to the public location when no one was around. The spot where the victims were killed hasn’t been found yet. I guess they could have found that spot and that’s where I’m going. I’m mainly in a more rural area.

It’s only when I pull on the final street that I realize where I am. I pull up as close to the house as possible and quickly turn off my car. I don’t even pause to show my badge I just hold it up as I duck under the tape barrier. Stopping only when I’m inside the house and looking around. When I see them, I rush over.

Sanders is in his pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. His very pregnant wife, Maria, is tucked under his arm next to him in a night gown of her own.

I don’t care that I’m interrupting their official statements when I pull Maria into a hug first.

“Oh Blain,” her voice tired, yet still cheerful, “I was wondering when you were going to get here, dear.”

I spare a second to give her large tummy a rub, “He didn’t tell me you were this far along. He made it seem like it just happened.” I kiss her cheek before hugging Sanders, “Is everything alright?”

“We’re just fine,” Maria pats my back.

“Are the kids okay? What happened?”

My partner sighs and runs a hand through his hair before kissing his wife’s temple, “Can you go make sure the boys are in their rooms?” She smiles understandingly before nodding and walking off. “We’ll pick back up in a minute,” he tells the officer taking their statements and motions for me to follow him. We end up sitting next to each other on the couch, his head automatically hanging, “It’s been a long night.”

“What happened?” I repeat.

He looks up and sits back, “I came downstairs for a glass of water. I reached up in the cabinet to grab a cup, but I knocked it off the shelf. And as I bent down to pick it up, I hear a gunshot. So, I stayed down behind the counter. And I hear moving around upstairs so I yelled for everyone to lay down on the floor. Then maybe a minute later there was the sound of breaking glass; a lot of it.”

“Is everyone okay?”

He nods, “Yea, no one was hurt. I pulled the phone off the counter and called the station. They sent a patrol out and no one was here by the time they got here.”

“What was the glass sound?”

“Oh,” he chuckles, “that was just a brick coming through my front window.”

“A brick?”

As I look over I realize there’s glass on the floor and crime techs surrounding a hole in the windowpane. Taking a look around, there’s more going on than I originally saw. There are too many people in Sanders’ house. I don’t like this. This shouldn’t be a crime scene.

“Your note was attached to it,” he informs me like it’s a casual thing.

It drives me absolutely insane that he stays so calm all the time. His family was just put in danger and he’s just sitting here on the couch with me calmly.

Then it clicks, “My note?”

He raises an eyebrow as if he’s asking if I’m really that thick, “Your pen pal, Ashton. The one that usually leaves a body along with it.”

“They threw a brick through your window?”

He nods again, “And tried to shoot me as I got a glass of water.”

I stand up immediately, “And everyone’s okay? No one was hurt? I feel awful.”

He shakes his head and pulls me to sit back down by my arm, “Everyone is safe. The boys and Maria are upstairs packing. I’m trying to keep them out of this. They’re going to Maria’s sister’s house for a little while.”

Exhaling, I let my head hit the back of the sofa, “This is too much.”

“I hate to say this, but wait until you see the note,” he shrugs. Looking over to one of the crime scene guys, he lifts a hand and makes a whistling noise, then, “Can I get that note over here?”

The guy nods quickly and moves over to hand it to us along with a pair of gloves.

It takes me no time to put them on and take the paper out of the bag. The first thing I notice is the handwriting. Before, all the notes were typed. This one is hand written and very messily so. It seems angrier; more rushed. This wasn’t planned like the other.

After looking it over, I read it:

Detective Ashton,
Now that I really have your attention, maybe you’ll actually get it. Let me make this as clear as possible. I know where your friend and family live. I know when you go to work. I see Henry leave apartment every morning after you and go to the Tune building. I know you sent your roommates away. And if you’re still not getting it, I can hear and see everything you do.
He tells you he LOVES you and all you can say is “I do, you know”. He deserves to be loved by someone who can love him back. Not by some selfish prick that can’t even tell him. He’s more than just someone to sleep with. He’s more than your TOY!
So now, to make sure I get my way, this is my last warning. If you don’t leave him, I won’t leave your friends and family. Starting tomorrow. I wonder how many of your loved ones it’ll take for you to get it.
If I’m not happy, neither are you.
I’ll be watching… AND listening.

“Holy Shit,” I breathe into my hand as I try to inhale and exhale properly.

I drop the letter to the floor and my body folds in half. My head is in my hands between my knees and I can’t move. I can’t breathe. This is all my fault. My friends and family are going to get hurt because of me. I can’t let this happen. I won’t be the cause of their pain.

Suddenly, I’m standing and moving toward the door, “I have to go.”

“Wait,” I hear Sanders behind me, but I can’t slow down. “What are you doing?”

“I can’t do this,” I tell him as I take off the gloves and let them drop to the floor as well. “I won’t let you guys get hurt.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ashton,” he’s still following me as I move out of the house. “You can’t just give him what he wants.”

I stop just inside the barrier, “How can I not?! How can I just sit around and watch this happen all around me? How can I let the people I care about get killed just because I’m selfish?” I realize I’m in a state between frantic and sobbing and screaming mad. It doesn’t stop me, “I can’t let this happen. I won’t.”

He get stopped by one of the officers that still need him as he tries to accompany me to my car, “Blain, think this through.”

“Really, Joe?” I stop before getting in. “You would really let everyone around you die because you couldn’t stop loving Maria? Would you give risk her life just to stay happy?”

Instead of waiting for an answer, I get in my car and drive off. I’m not having that argument. I’m just not going to do it. I’m definitely not risking his life. There’s not a thing in this world that I would risk his life for.

I wish the car ride back to my apartment was longer. I have no idea what I’m going to say when I get inside. I just know that I have to let him know somehow that I still care about him. I care about him too much to have him go through this any longer.

 Walking in the door, I take deep breath and let it out slowly. I just have to do it. It has to be done. So, first things first. I start by calling out his name. I do it a couple times before I get to the room because I know it will be even harder to drag him out of bed.

When I finally get in there, he’s sitting on the bed rubbing his eyes. My heart clenches at the site and I already hate myself that much more.

I put the most expressionless face I can manage, “You need to get up.”

The confused look I receive hurts, “What’s wrong, babe?”

Shaking my head, I close my eyes, “Can you please stand up, Henry?” He stretches his back as he moves to stand in front of me. I grab his neck and pull his ear toward my mouth. As quickly and quietly as I can, I tell him, “There’s a programmed GPS in your glove box. Follow it. Don’t call. Don’t text. And make this believable.” I let go of him and taking a step back, I talk at a normal volume, “Now.”

He lifts an eyebrow and tilts his head, “What?”

“You need to go. I can’t do this anymore,” I won’t shake. I won’t cry.

I don’t know if they’re watching. I know they can at least hear. This has to look and sound real. And if it’s to save Henry’s life, I’ll do it.

I can see when he starts to understand. He wasn’t smiling before, but now he looks heartbroken. “You want me to leave?”

“Right now, preferably.”

“I don’t understand,” but his face tells me otherwise.

Shrugging, I move to lean against the doorway, “You need to get dressed and start packing your stuff. Get out of my home. Get out of my life. This isn’t working. We don’t work. We’re two different people and we’re just kidding ourselves to drag it out.”

You’re hurting him to keep him safe. You’re hurting him to keep him safe. You’re hurting him to keep him safe.

His eyes become huge as he looks at me, “You said you loved me.”

“People say a lot of thing, Henry,” I can’t even look him in the eye anymore.

“I don’t believe you,” he voice is low. He moves over to me and puts his hands on my waist, “You don’t mean this.”

Grabbing his hands, I pry them away from me and take another step back, “Just go.”

“Why?” It’s just a breath of his actual voice.

Finally looking in his eyes again, I shake my head, “Too many potato chips.”

He looks confused for only a second before it sinks in and then he’s shaking his head and walking up to me again, “No, no, no. You don’t have to do this. No, we’ll be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.” Tears start to stream down his face, “You don’t have to do this. No, please.”

As he takes a step toward me, I take one back. I can’t let him touch me. I can’t let him convince me otherwise. This has to happen. I won’t let him get hurt. I won’t show him that this is killing me.

“I love you,” his voice is broken as he finally pins me to the door of what used to be his room, “please. Don’t do this.”

His body presses into mine as he holds me there. I know I have to break away. I know I’m going to have to physically move him. It makes me want to cry and vomit and scream. What other choice do I have?

Trying not to think about it, I take his wrist that’s next to my head where his arms are pinning me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper and can feel my lip tremble.

His brow arches only for a second before I twist his hand into an unnatural angle. As predicted, his body automatically moves to relieve the pain; rotating away from me and kneeling onto the floor as he cries out. The noise goes straight to my heart as I feel the first drop descends my cheek.

As soon as I’m free, I let go and walk out into the living room with my back to him, “Pack your stuff, Henry.”

I hear him get up and slam the bedroom door behind him.

It doesn’t take him long. And when he’s done, I’m sitting on a stool at the kitchen island. His face is tear streaked and stone cold as he walks to the door. Without another word, he grabs his keys and takes two from the ring. He’s silent as he throws sets the on the counter and stares me straight in the eye.

Before I can help it, I’m on my feet and moving toward him. I take the back on his neck in my hand again and put my lips to his ear, “Don’t forget the GPS. The key is under the mat. Don’t contact me. Keep your normal routine. I’m so sorry.”

He starts to say, “I lov-”

But I put my other hand to his mouth and shake my head. I can’t hear it right now. I won’t be able to let him go, if I do.

He pushes me away a little more forcefully than I thought possible for such a great guy. His eyes are hard when he says, “Don’t worry, Sam, you won’t hear from me.”

The name hits where I know he intends to hurt and I let it. When he walks out the door is when I fall to my knees and sob. Everything hurts. I’ve never had heartbreak before. I’ve never cared enough. But now, this isn’t just heart break. It’s my entire boy. They should change the term to something more severe. My world shatters as he leaves.

After a minute or so, I pull it back together. I have to. Not for me, but for him.

Pulling out my phone, I grab one of the keys Henry left and run upstairs as quickly as I can. Unlock the studio, I crawl into the soundproof room and close the door behind me. No one can hear me this way for sure.

Dialing the number I know by heart, I put the phone to my ear. As soon as I hear the heartwarming voice, I say, “Daddy, I need you.”

~A/N~

I know what you're thinking... Why didn't he use the booth to tell Henry?! .... He had to make a show of it and he had to make ait look real.

.....Happy Mother's Day?