He stared at the phone in disbelief, his heart racing and his mind blank. She had just shattered his calm with a simple four word sentence. The four words which, on their own really didn't instill nearly as much fear, or even in pairs and random groupings didn't scare him half as much. But, those four, together in that single order, those four words terrified him. He had learned, through previous trials and tribulations, that those four words were akin to the death knell of any relationship, especially when things had become rough or sporadic in said relationship.

And things had. Become difficult, that is. They weren't able to see each other as much, what with her mother being terribly sick in the hospital. Almost all her waking hours not in school were spent sitting at her mother's bedside. And he understood. He really did. He recalled his grandfather's fight with cancer, remembered the long hours spent in the hospital waiting room while his father sat next to his grandfather, head often hung down with his palms on his forehead.

He understood why they weren't seeing each other as much. But he hadn't thought things were getting that bad that fast, for her to say it.

Still. She had said those four words. And now he was afraid. He felt his chest tighten up and his hands numbing, his eyes misting over and his knees caving, felt his bed conform to his body and heard the springs groan in protest to the sudden pressure placed upon them. The sound of the metal straining shook him from his shaken stupor. His fingers moved of their own accord, the reply typed out quickly and concisely, a simple "goodnight" and "i love you", sent off without a second thought, all of his mind focused on what she could possibly mean by "we need to talk".

He felt, more than heard, the return message, equally simple, and checked it quickly before plugging it into the wall and letting it rest on the floor.