The question lingered in the quiet room.
Heavy.
Unsettling.
What kind of man leaves a phone behind, and assumes he will be called?
Seren stood motionless for several seconds, the unfamiliar device still resting in his hand. The message glowed faintly on the screen, calm and confident, as if it had all the time in the world to wait for his response.
His pulse had not slowed.
If anything, the silence made it louder.
He swallowed slowly, forcing air into his lungs.
Then, almost as an afterthought, his gaze shifted toward the edge of the bed where his own phone lay half-hidden beneath the blanket.
A flicker of unease passed through him.
He had not checked it.
Not once.
The realization tightened something in his chest.
He crossed the room quickly and reached for the device, his movements careful but urgent. His fingers trembled slightly as he picked it up, the familiar weight grounding him in a way the stranger's phone never could.
The screen lit instantly.
And his breath caught.
Missed calls.
Several of them.
All from the same contact.
Juno
A string of notifications filled the display, stacked one after another, stretching across the morning hours.
7:01 a.m.
7:16 a.m.
7:44 a.m.
8:03 a.m.
8:27 a.m.
His chest tightened.
There were messages too.
Many of them.
Short.
Increasingly urgent.
He hesitated for only a moment before opening them.
Juno:
Did you get home safely?
Another message.
Juno:
Your phone is off. That's not like you.
He scrolled.
Juno:
Call me when you see this.
A pause.
Then the last message appeared, sent just minutes ago.
Juno:
Seren, I'm serious. That guy from the club … the one who took you … where are you?
Seren exhaled slowly.
The words settled heavily in his chest.
Juno remembered.
Of course he did.
The tension from the night before returned in a quiet wave, the way Juno had watched the stranger carefully, the warning in his voice when he said, Take care of him.
Seren pressed his lips together.
He tapped the call button.
The phone rang once.
Twice.
"Finally!"
Juno's voice burst through the speaker, sharp with relief and irritation.
"Do you know how worried I was?"
Seren winced slightly, pulling the phone a little away from his ear.
"I'm okay," he said quickly.
There was a brief silence on the other end.
Not calm.
Not relaxed.
Careful.
"You didn't go home last night," Juno said.
It wasn't a question.
Seren swallowed.
"No."
Another pause followed.
Longer this time.
Then Juno spoke again, his voice lower, more controlled.
"You stayed with that man."
The statement landed between them.
Seren closed his eyes.
"Yes."
Silence stretched.
Then Juno exhaled slowly.
"The same one from the club," he continued.
"The one who said he'd take you to a hotel."
Seren's grip tightened around the phone.
"Yes."
Juno did not raise his voice.
Did not accuse.
But the tension in his breathing was unmistakable.
"Are you safe right now?" he asked.
The question came steady and direct.
Seren glanced around the unfamiliar room, the polished furniture, the quiet air, the lingering scent that refused to disappear.
"Yes."
Another pause.
Then:
"Did he hurt you?"
Seren's chest tightened.
"No," he said quickly. "Nothing like that."
Juno was silent for a moment longer.
Processing.
Thinking.
Then his tone shifted slightly, still concerned, but calmer.
"Okay."
The word carried relief.
Not complete trust.
But relief.
Seren leaned against the edge of the bed, exhaustion settling into his bones.
"I just needed somewhere to rest," he said quietly.
"I know," Juno replied.
"You sounded off last night," he continued. "Flushed. Unsteady. I didn't like the way you looked."
Seren's gaze drifted toward the bathroom.
Toward the faint mark on his collarbone.
His chest tightened.
"Yeah," he murmured.
Another silence followed.
Then Juno spoke again, more carefully.
"Do you remember him?"
The question landed softly.
Not accusing.
Not demanding.
Seren closed his eyes.
"No."
The word came out barely above a whisper.
"I remember the club. The drinks. Leaving."
He exhaled slowly.
"But his face… it's just blank."
Juno did not respond immediately.
When he finally spoke, his voice carried quiet concern.
"That's not like you."
Seren let out a weak breath.
"I know."
A pause settled between them.
Then Juno asked the question Seren had been avoiding.
"Did you use protection?"
The words struck like a sudden jolt.
Seren's breath stalled.
His mind flashed back to the same terrifying uncertainty that had been circling his thoughts all morning.
Did they use protection?
He pressed his lips together.
"I don't know."
Silence.
Heavy.
Uncomfortable.
Then Juno exhaled slowly.
"Okay," he said.
Not panic.
Not anger.
Calm.
"We'll handle it."
Relief washed through Seren in slow waves.
Someone else was thinking clearly.
Someone else was steady.
"What time is it?" Juno asked.
Seren glanced at the clock.
"Nine twenty-three."
Another pause.
Then Juno spoke again, firm but gentle.
"You need to come home."
Seren nodded instinctively before remembering Juno couldn't see him.
"Okay."
"We'll figure this out," Juno continued.
"We'll check your cycle, talk to a clinic if we need to, and make a plan."
A plan.
The word settled into Seren's mind like an anchor.
Something structured.
Something controlled.
Something he could hold onto.
He ended the call slowly, lowering the phone from his ear.
The room fell silent again.
But this time, the silence felt different.
Less suffocating.
More manageable.
His gaze drifted back to the other phone.
The one still resting on the bedside table.
Waiting.
Patient.
Expectant.
Seren walked toward it slowly, his heartbeat steadying with each step.
He stopped beside the table.
Stared at the dark screen.
And for a long moment, he did nothing.
Then, the device vibrated softly in his hand.
The screen lit up again.
A new message appeared.
Unknown:
Are you awake?