What The Fuck Is This

(⭐) Turning The Tables (Part 3)

ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴛᴏʟᴅ? ʜᴏᴡ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇ ꜱᴏ ꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ʟɪᴇ? ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛʀᴜꜱᴛ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ, ᴡᴀꜱɴ'ᴛ ɪᴛ? ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴀᴍᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱʜɪᴛᴛʏ ʟɪᴇ ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜱᴀɪᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ. ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʏꜱ. ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜱᴏ, ꜱᴏ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʏᴇᴀʀɴ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴅᴀʏꜱ ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴇᴇᴋꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴡᴇᴇᴋꜱ ᴛᴜʀɴ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴏɴᴛʜꜱ ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ꜱᴛɪʟʟ ꜱᴛᴀʏꜱ. ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀɪᴛ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪɴᴅ ʜᴀʀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴛᴏ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴏꜰ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ꜱᴛɪᴄᴋꜱ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴏꜰ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴀᴄᴋ...ᴏʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴄᴀꜱᴇ ʜᴀᴠɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋ.

Time flies sometimes but it also doesn't at others, so how can it be possible for it to feel like both at the same time? How long has it been anyways? Four months? Yes, that's it. It has been four months and there hasn't been a singular sign of that damned backpack, not one. There is the possibility that he's just busy but..he knows better. He hasn't seen the change of his presumed dead status, so it's clear that's not the case.

That shitty makeshift bed has been sat on the floor for the past four months because he still believes that there's still the possibility of him showing up and needing to stay. He has had that hope after the first week of no signs, taking it as hitchhiking but his concerns only grew after the first month, and over time that hope started slowly leaving him. Of course not entirely. For some odd reason, he couldn't find it in him to completely give up on him. I mean, there's always that sliver of luck that he appears at his door again but what exactly are the odds?

He doesn't know. He wants to know, he genuinely does. If he doesn't come to his place after everything that has happened, you'd think he'd at least somehow try to get in contact with him. I mean, he has done it before, probably even unaware that it was him that he was led to, but still. He'd at least let him know that he's safe. He never did. So how is he supposed to know that? He told him he'd be safe, that he'd get home. But without anything showing that he's safe and home, how is he to believe that bullshit? There's not a single fucking sign that shows it. None.

It has been four months and he wants answers. He wants fucking answers. That laptop probably has them. It was in the alley so it must have some sort of answer. It has to. He never has once opened the thing besides when he got home with it, only to find out that it was miraculously dead and he didn't own a charger for it. He doesn't know why he didn't get one until recently, so he had basically forgot about the thing until now. He sat at his kitchen table with the laptop open, fully charged and waiting for it to turn on.

It doesn't have a password. It is instantly brought onto the home screen. A small tab opened up, a text one. It seemed like someone was in the middle of typing something before the laptop died. The single sentence on this new tab was [Liam, what did yo] and then ends. Liam... They were talking to him before they died it seemed. It looked like they were going to ask if he had done something. That sentence was soon erased from the tab and replaced with a new word..or a new name.