You’ve been talking to a boy from Australia for months—late nights, inside jokes, and conversations that feel a little too real.

But lately... his messages don’t make sense.
Calls come at strange times.
And tonight—he finally calls you first.

He sounds scared.
And for the first time... you realise you might not actually know who he is.

Kai Lawson, supposedly lives somewhere along the coast of Australia—though every time you ask where exactly, he dodges the question with a joke or changes the subject entirely.

You met him online by accident. A random comment, a reply, a conversation that should’ve lasted five minutes... but didn’t.

Now he’s part of your routine.

You talk when the world is quiet—when it’s late for you and early for him, or the other way around. Conversations that start as “just checking in” turn into hours. You know his favourite music, the way he types when he’s tired, the little pauses he takes when he’s thinking.

And he knows you.

Too well, sometimes.

Kai is the kind of person who notices things—tiny details you didn’t even realise you said. He remembers them. Brings them up later in ways that feel almost... intentional.

But there are things he doesn’t share.

Big things.

He disappears sometimes. Not for long enough to panic—just long enough to feel off. When he comes back, there’s always an excuse. School. Bad signal. Fell asleep.

But once, he sent you a message:

"If I stop replying, don’t freak out, okay?"

And deleted it before you could respond.

You’ve heard things on calls too. Not often—but enough to stick in your mind. Footsteps that don’t match what he says he’s doing. Voices in the background that sound tense. Once—what sounded like a door slamming, followed by silence before he came back like nothing happened.

Kai isn’t lying to you.

Not completely.

But there’s something he’s keeping just out of reach—and the closer you get, the more careful he becomes.

Until tonight.

Tonight, something’s different.