A/n: Here's another unfinished story that'll I'll be working on and off on, too. I have four chapters total so far and a couple sentences of the fifth (plus the ending but that's so far off o.x)

I have just one note. The main character is Korean (I mention this now cuz you don't officially find out till like the third chapter- I know, bad storytelling, bad!), so I'll be littering his and his family's words with their mother tongue, so don't eat me if something's not right or anything :( And if you see full spoken sentences in italics, it's safe to assume the whole thing is in Korean. Am I lazy? Yes.

Now onward!

'Happy Birthday!' had been what he'd been expecting to hear as soon as he walked through the front door, or at the very least his boyfriend pouncing to hug him tight and kiss him good luck.

Not absolute silence.

Tommy's smile faltered. Looking around, he noted that the entire house was dark, and strangely eerie. When he had driven up he laughed to himself and immediately knew that Andrew was trying to surprise him.

Of course, of course. That was it, wasn't it? He was hiding, waiting for him to walk around the corner. Nothing to get worked up over.

"Drew?" he called softly, checking the living room in case he had fallen asleep in front of the TV. But he wasn't there. The TV was off and the place felt lifeless. The game system was missing, but that wasn't of much concern; Chase had probably stopped by and borrowed it. He checked the kitchen next, but the only thing that greeted him was the cool hum of the appliances. Trying not to panic, Tommy spun on his heel and headed for the stairs. Each step creaked under his feet, and he couldn't help but think it foreboding.

Reaching the landing, the brunet headed for the end of the narrow hallway, where the two shared the master bedroom. His footsteps, muffled by the long rug, quickened as he approached, for surely his lover had fallen asleep trying to keep awake for him; it wouldn't have been the first time. He carefully opened the door and poked his head in, ready to see Andrew sprawled on top of the coverlet, completely nude and snoring into a pillow.

The bed was neatly made up, everything in place, almost exactly as he left it that very morning. He frowned and ran a hand through his short hair. Where was Drew…?

Oh, wait. He knew.

Drew was the romantic type. On anniversaries and birthdays, if he wasn't waiting in bed to make love, then he was in the bathroom, sitting on the corner of their tub and lazily swirling his fingers around in the rose scented bath. His gorgeous blue eyes would be dimmed and his entire body language would speak of eroticism.

Of course.

Hiding his smile, Tommy crept down to the opposite end of the hallway, where he was sure his lover would be waiting for him. Even though there was no warmth emitting from the door nor was there the sound of twinkling water, the brunet smiled further and he slowly pushed the door open, his heart subtly picking up speed as he wondered about the things they would do once they were in each other's arms…

"Hey," he started, but that was all he managed as he was greeted with darkness, and nothing else. Blinking back a sudden onslaught of tears, Tommy backed out of the room and retraced his steps to the bedroom, his heart now tangled in his throat. He flicked on the light and took another look around. Neat, orderly, perfect… nothing out of place. It looked as though it was just recently cleaned, which was strange. Andrew hated cleaning. Even if it was for a special occasion, he refused to even so much as look at a broom. Had someone else been in their home? Their room?

His entire body tensed and he went straight to the closet as though he'd been drawn by a magnet. He swung the doors open. All he saw were his belongings. His clothes, his shoes, his books from college, an emergency kit, but none of Drew's things. His shirts and ties hung forlornly in the suddenly big space.

He slammed it shut.

Oxygen was gulped down clumsily as he rested his forehead against the cool doors and tried to think. Now it was certain that something had happened, something he couldn't imagine. He never wanted to think the worst of it, but what could've happened? Where was his lover? Why was everything… so wrong?

His mouth ran dry with a sudden thought. Drew's drawer. His answer would be there. Calming himself down, Tommy turned and went to the bed, to Drew's bedside table and wrenched the little drawer open. His boyfriend kept his most personal things in there; some lucky coins, cloth hand-woven by his great-great grandmother, birthday cards and love notes the two had shared between them during their raucous days of high school. They'd be in there. He'd look at them, smile, and go wait for the other's return.

It was utterly bare.

A cold chill gripped him, making it hard to breathe once more. Sweat accumulated across his brow. He didn't understand. Didn't want to understand.

Slamming that shut, Tommy blindly raced out of the room and down the stairs, skipping the last three with stumbled grace and sprinting to their garage, where he knew his lover's clunky Harley Davidson was sitting in its corner, a pair of identical helmets sitting next to each other on the worn leather seat.

It was gone. The bike, the helmets, the air-pump, the polish… all gone.

Tommy grasped at the doorframe as he lost all feeling in his legs, his eyes wide and frantic.

This wasn't happening.

It couldn't be happening.

It wasn't…

Tommy lowered his eyes. He felt as though he might die. Deep down he knew he was being overdramatic; he was fine, he was in perfect health. But looking at it, seeing it, feeling it…

It killed him.

Slowly, his entire body feeling dumbed down with lead, Tommy climbed to his feet and closed the door. His heart pounded unevenly as he retraced his steps, up the staircase and to the bedroom. The house was eerily quiet as he came to the solid conclusion that he was the only one there. The air was cold, stagnant. His footsteps were ridiculously loud as he went across the hall to the room.

It was such an overwhelming and unwelcoming feeling.

Like clockwork, he slid off his shoes and neatly set them side by side outside the closet door, where he always put them. He slipped off his dress shirt and folded the sleeves in before putting it back in the top dresser drawer, where he was unsurprised to find only his stuff. Methodically, he yanked his slacks off, folded them, and stuffed them inside the drawer right under the first. He felt bare, unbelievably so as he went to the bed and slipped under the sheets.

It was freezing.

Wordlessly, he reached over and shut off his lamp, then lay in deep silence, the faint sound of his heart being the only sign of life.

Whimpering Andrew's name, he curled himself into a tight ball, not allowing his small body to touch anything else except his spot. He looked to his alarm clock and saw that it was barely reaching eleven o'clock. His birthday would be officially starting in an hour. It took a moment for him to realize that wet streams of tears were dampening his pillow.

For the first time in ten years, he cried himself to sleep.

A/n: Next chapter will be up sometime tomorrow. Cheers.