A tiny knot forms in my chest. I check the couch. His favorite blanket pile. The top of the fridge. Behind the curtains.
Nothing.
My heartbeat starts climbing.
I drop to my knees and check under the bed.
Under the dresser.
Behind the laundry basket.
“Dr. Doom?” My voice cracks.
He wouldneverignore me this long…
Not unless something was wrong.
I grab my phone.
“Ashton,” I breathe when she answers. “I can’t find Dr. Doom.”
She’s at my apartment fifteen minutes later, hair messy, backpack still over her shoulder.
“It’s okay,” she says, scanning the room. “He’s probably just doing his cryptid thing. We’ll find him.”
We search everywhere.
My apartment.
The hallway.
The elevator.
The stairwell.
The lobby.
Outside in the dark, calling his name like lunatics.
Nothing.
Two hours later, we end up back in my apartment, exhausted and defeated.
“I hate to leave you,” Ashton says, guilt all over her face, “but I have an exam tomorrow. Text me the second he turns up… he will.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
She hugs me tightly before leaving, and then I’m alone in the too-quiet apartment, fighting tears and imagining every worst-case scenario.
I sit on the couch, pulling my knees to my chest.
He’s gone.
He’s actually.
A soft knock at the door.
I freeze.
