alredy missin u, Jake replies, and David swallows that same feeling from before, puts his phone down before he can respond with a Same., then picks it back up and deletes the message from Jake, because if someone saw it, well —

He doesn’t send anything back, in the end. He doesn’t know what to say.

*

Jake texts him to let him know he got home safely, as requested. He texts him to tell him when he’s leaving for Sunrise. He texts him to tell him he’s landed safely in Sunrise, and then that he’s home, and then that he’s looking forward to training camp, missed his teammates, is David as excited for the season as Jake is?

David doesn’t answer any of them. He wants to, he just can’t. He finishes training. He meets Kurmazov to discuss their goals for their season, how they hope to achieve them. They can’t do it alone, but David will try his best, and he knows Kurmazov will too. He orders a meal service, because he knows from experience he’ll be too tired after training camp to cook. He sets up housekeeping, because it’s harder to stay on top of his apartment during the season. Jake texts him to ask if he’s okay. David looks at it for a while, considering, and doesn’t answer that either.

His phone vibrates while he’s eating dinner, and he ignores it, but after the call runs through, it starts again. It could be Jake, but it could also be Dave, one of his parents. It could be an emergency. He sighs, reaching for it. The incoming call from Jake’s number makes his heart lodge somewhere in his throat, and David presses answer before he can stop himself.

“Hi,” David says.

“You are seriously the worst texter in the world,” Jake says, voice warm despite the words.

“Sorry,” David says. “I’ll work on it.”

“You better,” Jake says. “What if I was dying? What if I sent you a text for help, and you missed it, and then I died? How would you feel then?”

“I’d feel like you probably wasted your time texting me when there was nothing I could do to help from here?” David says.

Jake snorts. “What if I just wanted your voice to be the last thing I heard?”

David goes red, but flustered or not, that makes no sense. “Then you would have called, not texted,” he says.

“Quit being logical when I’m being completely ridiculous, it’s not fair,” Jake says.

“Sorry,” David says. “I guess you’re not dying?”

“I don’t think so?” Jake says. “But I felt like hearing your voice anyway. Make sure you weren’t dead, considering you weren’t answering anything.”

“Sorry,” David says.

“You say sorry way too much for someone who isn’t sorry at all,” Jake says.

“I am sorry,” David argues.