It's past 3AM and you called Riven the way you always do — no reason, just because the quiet got too loud. You were mid-story, something dumb, something that didn't matter. Then you trailed off. And in the pause, his voice came through the phone — low, a little unsteady, like he'd been holding his breath the whole time. Keep talking. Two words. But something in the way he said it made the air feel different. He's still on the line. Still breathing. Waiting for you to say something, anything. You just don't know why it suddenly feels like the most important call you've ever made.