Thrills in the Night: A Y/N x Paul Stanley Story

Runaway

Paul POV

I pushed open the door to our room, exhausted from the show and just wanting to hold my girlfriend. She wasn't sitting in the small living room area of the suite so I walked back to our room, pushing open the door and frowning. She wasn't in bed either, wasn't in the room. 

I walked to the bathroom to see if she was there but there was no sign of her. Frown deepening, I moved through the entire suite, but Y/N wasn't there. I picked up the phone, dialing Gene's room. H/N answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey H/N, it's Paul. Is Y/N with you?" I asked.

"No, I haven't seen her all night. Why?"

My blood ran cold.

"I'll call you back," I said, hanging up and darting back to our bedroom. I yanked open the closet, feeling my heart drop. It was empty save for my clothes, all of hers gone. I tore through the dressers which were empty as well, along with the bathroom.

"No, no, no," I whispered, turning and running down the hall. 

I crashed into Gene who was just about to reach his room. 

"Whoa hey what's wrong?" he asked, putting his hands on my shoulders.

"She's gone, sh-she's gone, I don't know where she is," I said, chest heaving. 

"What? What do you mean, what're you talking about?" he asked.

"My girlfriend! Y/N, my girlfriend! She's not in our room, all her stuff's gone, I don't know where she is or what's going on, she-she didn't leave a note like she did when she ran away awhile ago, she's just gone," I said, on the verge of falling apart. 

"Calm down. Take a deep breath and calm down," he said. "Have you called her?" 

I shook my head, turning and running back to my room before he could say anything else. I grabbed my phone, dialing her number and waiting desperately. But it went to voicemail right away.

"Y/N lovely it's Paul, what's wrong? Where are you? Please come home, I love you, I want to be with you. At the very least please please tell me what's wrong, tell me where you are and that you're safe and--"

A dial tone cut me off as I reached my message limit. Trembling, I slowly hung up the phone, feeling sick. There was a knock on the door and I tore it open, but it was only Gene.

"Did you reach her?" he asked, and I shook my head, feeling like my entire world was falling down around me. 

"I-I don't know where she is, I don't know what's wrong, her phone didn't even ring it just went straight to voicemail, what if she's in danger? I don't understand, I-I don't know why she left, I don't know what happened," I said in a rush, head spinning.

He put his hands on my shoulders again, holding me steady.

"Take a deep breath. It's going to be fine." 

"I'm scared. It-it's not just my girlfriend who's vanished and is at risk, it's my child too," I said, unsure of why I was even saying that. 

"I know. Look, the fact all her stuff is gone and that her phone went straight to voicemail means she's probably on a plane right now. You were saying she said she wanted to go home, so that's what she's probably done." 

"Then I need to go after her," I said, already trying to buy a plane ticket.

But Gene grabbed my wrist, pulling my hand away.

"You need to finish the tour. We have two weeks left. You're the frontman of the band, you can't leave." 

"But it's my girlfriend! My pregnant girlfriend! I have to go after her, I-I have to go help her!" I cried. 

"You can't just leave the band. Call her in a few hours, talk to her then, and work out a solution." 

I took a step back, shaking my head.

"I-I can't just leave her, I need to find her! She's my girlfriend, I'm supposed to protect her! To keep her safe!" 

"And you can figure out how to do that in a few hours when you've talked to her. I can't let you leave." 

"Fine," I whispered, stumbling back to our room. 

I crumpled onto her half of the bed, hugging one of her pillows to my chest and beginning to cry. I didn't understand why she had left. She hadn't even left a note, she hadn't even said goodbye or even sorry, she just vanished. I didn't know what I had done, what I had said to push her away. I had tried so hard to make things right after lashing out so cruelly, I had done all I can to make her feel safe and loved, but it must not have been enough. 

If it had been enough, she wouldn't have left me. 

I continued to leave messages for her, staying up all night and waiting desperately for a response. Eventually her phone began to ring instead of going straight to voicemail, but she still didn't answer. I left dozens of messages, growing increasingly desperate and more and more heartbroken, but there was nothing, no response. 

Finally, at nearly four in the morning, I hung up the phone for the last time, going back to sobbing into the pillows, wishing I could see her again, to hold her and tell her I love her and would always love her. But it would be over two weeks before I could try to find her. And if she hadn't gone home as I thought she had, I doubted I'd ever be able to see her again.