𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 | austin butler

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫

The second that the sound of it reached his ears, he nearly doubled over. Austin had heard once before that a person's voice is the first thing that you forget about a person as time goes on. For the first year he had been terrified that he might forget the gorgeous, unrestrained sound of your laughter or the lilting, melodic pitch to your voice. He had replayed memories over again and again in his head, hoping to hang on to the exact way you sounded, but over time he must have gotten it wrong. Your voice was far more beautiful than he remembered.

He sat up in bed, quick to push the comforter off of himself so that he could get up. He couldn't think of a single good reason why would be calling him after five years, and so late into the night. No matter how beautiful your voice was, he could hear the panic in your tone. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. His heart had flown into his throat, and he found it hard to walk as he stumbled around his room in the dark, trying to find a pair of pants. He didn't know why, but he felt like he had to get to you right away. Everything would be alright if he could just see you. Touch you. He could hear you sniffling softly, tears in your voice as you softly said his name again, almost too quiet for him to hear. It felt like he was breaking. His hands shook as he struggled to pull his shirt over his head, quickly pressing the phone back up to his ear when he heard something loud echoing on the other end. "Talk to me, baby." He murmured, opening the door to his bedroom so that he could take the stairs two at a time, rushing to grab his motorcycle boots that he had by the front door. "I need you to come get me." You were whispering into the phone, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

So you must not be alone. He held the phone against his ear with his shoulder as he tied his boots up, rushing to double knot them before grabbing his keys and wallet. "I-It's bad." That was too vague, and he was beginning to spiral into a panic. He was used to making sure that things went smoothly. Austin was an insanely capable person- but he felt helpless. "What's bad?" He locked the door behind himself before jogging to the back of his house so that he could grab his bike out of the garage. He could hear your distress. "Y/n, please." He begged after the sound of your sniffles began to get too much for him. His heart couldn't take it. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't breathe now that he knew you were in possible danger. You didn't answer him, and for a second he was afraid that you had hung up. He pulled the phone away from his cheek, letting out a breath of relief when he saw that the call was still active. "Alright, tell me where you are at least. I'm coming, okay?" You whispered an unfamiliar address to him, and he was quick to type it into his GPS.

He nearly died when he saw the estimated arrival time. Nearly bent over and puked all over his beat up old boots. You had been right under his nose the entire time. Twenty seven minutes. He had been twenty seven minutes from you this entire goddamn time. "Stay where you are, alright? I'm coming to get you." He didn't hang up the phone, merely shoved it into his back pocket. He had a feeling that if he hung the phone up, he might never hear from you again. He had already lost you one time, he couldn't do it again. Not after hearing the fear in your voice.

Austin couldn't remember a time that he had ever driven that fast before. If a cop had seen him, they didn't even bother turning their lights on and trying to pursue. He was like a bullet being shot into the dark. Gone in a flash. He almost felt bad for your neighbors when he pulled into your driveway. He was quick to move his foot against the kickstand, swinging his long leg over the bike so that he could slowly begin approaching the house. All the blinds seemed to be closed, so he couldn't see if there were any lights on inside. He dug into his back pocket, pressing the phone against his ear. "I think I'm here," His eyebrow raised as he heard some rustling in the background, but nearly dropped his phone when you screamed. The man had wondered why he had been the one that you called tonight. You must have known the way that he had turned out. He was everything that you supposedly hated, and yet here he was. People didn't call Austin for help unless they wanted their bike worked on or they needed someone dead.